The Third Prophecy
by The Emperor Vin
Summary: Albus Dumbledore feared the day it would come to act. Preferably after his death, and that was why he prolonged the predicament as much as he could. But the time was ripe, as the old enemy rises, while the existing one fails to see the other players on the chessboard. Title has been changed. Please read and review
1. Some Beginnings in the Middle

**The Prologue- Some beginnings in the middle**

 **Author's note :** some **major** edits in this one

I don't think the Prologue would interest a lot of people, but do try reading the first chapter before you give up on this fic. All reviews are welcome.

Um, and actually, if you are a first time reader, start reading from chapter 11. The actual story starts there, and without much preamble. The chapter is titled the escape, btw.

-vin

 _Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter universe. As everybody knows._

* * *

It has been a decade. Or a lot more than that. He had been left under the non-aging elixir, supposedly from the only philosopher's stone in existence. He had started hating this place since...

His last message was left incomplete, undelivered to the world.

* * *

Reduced to essence,I was floating… My soul was broken… death had not been fooled… his revenge for me trying to escape… this was worse than the cruciatus... It is more than what Sherrington described it as. Physical Adjunct? He had no idea...

* * *

Eyes twinkling, he looked at the blonde politician. Lucius was never one to neglect his appearance, and he never missed a chance to look impressive. Dumbledore knew the purpose for this visit - to check or rather, confirm if the claim set by the denizens of the deep, the merfolk, was indeed what it seemed to be - more than a prophetic exclamation.

Lucius smiled "As you might have noted, Headmaster, the recent... tidings have interested some of my… ah.. Clients… who suppose the screams heard at the black lake were more than just Grindylows"

"Yes indeed, Lucius, Grindylows don't scream, the screaming ones are the Banshees… of all people, you should know that, pressing charges against a professor of a course pertaining to that subject…

"But" said Lucius, cutting through " that was a personal endeavor taken in the interests of the students. Surely they wouldn't want to endanger their lives to some creature… You do not see the picture, Albus. I am here under the command of the minister, and I need you to see reason. You have been the only one seen talking to -

"Seen talking to- has Cornelius descended so low as to spy upon me? I admit it, talking to them. The great empress of the deep is my friend, and I have my right to talk with whoever I feel fit to.

"- the merfolk, with whom previous encounters have been less than cordial. I'm sorry, Headmaster, but matters of relations between magical brethren in privacy, should not be, and will not be tolerated-"

"Lucius, I find you overstepping your limits. This session is concluded"

"You will not be allowed to just bypass Ministry rules, and act on your own. You have NO RIGHT TO-"

He felt his throats silenced, as he saw the man in front. "Needs arose, Lucius. Impolite behaviour is not one I would expect in a student of mine."

The form of Dumbledore rose before him.

"Me, Lucius? I don't have the right? Is it?"

Fear arose within Lucius. He started sweating but tried maintaining his composure.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Sit down Lucius, petty anger isn't good for our health, with age against us."

The staff fell down, rolled and came to a rest under the chair previously occupied by walked around the room, while Lucius took the seat after picking up his staff.

"I ask this of you as an employee of the ministry, Professor-" Dumbledore noted the change in pronoun and smiled."-whatever is going on with the merfolk, it isn't for the good of wizardkind. If you have any speculations on their activity, it would do you well to inform us as it might have a chance at helping build our relations."

"What , like handing over the job to the senior undersecretary to the minister? Do you seriously believe I would accept such a proposal?"

"Dolores would not be-"

"Enough. I need to look into this matter. Tell Cornelius it was all in the interests of the Tournament in preparation, and they do not wish to participate."

"Very well" said Lucius "evening Dumbledore."

As Lucius went down the stairs, his cloak billowing, Dumbledore looked at his table. Fawkes tilted his head, and dumbledore stroked his plumage for a moment and then pulled out a strand of memory which was taken from the man who left his office mere minutes ago, through means similar to legilimency. The lord of death had work to do.

The Merfolk had indeed called, and their news was more than mere dismissal of their participation in the upcoming tournament. It was a far more disturbing thought, which Dumbledore, of all, should have suspected early on. The man in question was not one known for trusting a single plan. He was sure to have created backups, and Dumbledore feared this might have been his failproof.

* * *

 **So, how was the prologue? And Dumbledore is good, and most probably the hero of my story. Harry would make an appearence in the next chapter.**

 **Tell me what you want. I need more motivation!**


	2. Plans, new plans and a Question

**Chapter 2 - Plans, Changes in plans, and a Question**

The doors to the great hall opened. Hagrid peered in, and looked at dumbledore. Dumbledore beckoned him forth. He missed the merry and colourful hall as it now lacked the students. The holidays between terms was usually very quiet and it stayed that way, till last year, when Sirius had broken out of prison.

"Ah Pofessor! I was looking fer yeh yesterday and heard yeh got an appointmen' with that Malfoy." He looked at him, as if for conformation.

"Yes, Lucius wanted to ... know my opinion on the incident that happened at the lake."

"That ol' fool! What does he want now, huh? He's ben meddlin with you since his ferret of a son came in to the school. Better off without his lot pokin' their nose in, I say..."

"The nature of people is far more complex than to reason it out of a person's behaviour, Hagrid. I summoned you here because I need you to take up a task."

"What is it, sir? And why me?"

"I need someone who cannot be impersonated, and totally trustworthy. You fit better than a glove to me Hagrid, but this is a matter I would advice you to maintain absolute confidentiality, especially with students. This has been classified ministry matter, but it is correct that she should know about it."

Hagrid looked at him expectantly."You would have to run up with the official story, of course. But inform Olympe of what I show you."

Hagrid nodded, and stood.

"I'll need you back when the school year starts, Hagrid."

* * *

Harry Potter was tired, his head aching because of a lack of sleep. This was explained by the bird in his side, who squawked, appearing innocent. He scowled, as Hedwig was the reason he had to stay up all night amidst screams by Aunt petunia, for the mess his bird could do to the house in a mere few minutes(after days of imprisonment in a cage, he couldn't accuse the bird of a good flight)and the countless comparisons with his own worthlessness. The problem was that after the cage was opened, Hedwig flew straight into Dudley's room, with a 'meal' he caught himself in that room. The bed was full of... _stains,_ which were subsequently cleaned by Harry in three hours of arduous removal (of the rat which tormented Dudley's sleep). The removal of the rat by _Harry's_ owl had obviously gone unnoticed.

He opened up the bundle from the brown owl at the window, passed out an owl treat with a Knut to the bird, and sat down on the bed. He had been waiting for the quidditch World Cup, and Hermione had had him subscribed to the Daily Prophet. Nothing new was happening, and his birthday was due in a week's time. Sirius had sent a clock with a scream for an alarm and told him that he was being told to get back to an old house of his by the headmaster. He had adopted Snuffles as a name to make sure his letters were not intercepted, but he needn't have worried. The ministry of magic had tried searching the Asian subcontinent under a tip from "trusted sources" the Sirius black was getting trained in unknown martial arts. The Quibbler, a magazine that Sirius seemed to love, had reported that the singer had now impugned into a secret life of drama and poisoning chocolates. He had doubts on Sirius' sanity after that...

The World Cup grand finale was scheduled on a Sunday, and it had the Irish pitched up against the winner of the Czech v Bulgaria. A rare piece of news on the front page about hogwarts caught his eye...

" _SENIOR WIZENGAMOT MEMBER ACCUSES HOGWARTS HEADMASTER_

 _-Skeeter_

 _With terror rising on the wake of Sirius Black's recent escapade from Hogwarts grounds, the inability of the current Headmaster to act coordinated with the government has once again come to the forefront. Mister Lucius Malfoy, member of the wizengamot, has asked for the supreme mugwump of the ICW, to reconsider his position of power. The recent suggestion of the possible location of the notorious Death eater Sirius black by the headmaster of hogwarts, has turned out to be a fake one, as Sirius black has been sighted by our senior undersecretary to the minister, madam Dolores Umbridge, who claimed that she would have had the chance to apprehend the criminal, weren't she in a state of violating the Statute of secrecy in muggle london. Provided Albus Dumbledore's recent inclusion of possessed professors and ravenous werewolves into the school, where the future generation develops, Mr. Malfoy has expressed concerns over Dumbledore's position in the ICW_.

-F _urther discussion on the Statute of Secrecy and its implications over the vampires, read on to page 22, where Eldred Worple talks with our editor-in-chief_

Harry ate up breakfast, and took the letters that he hid under the floorboard. One was Hermione, asking him if he would recommend her coming to the quidditch World Cup, or spending her time in the garage of her house that was in the process of renovation. She hadn't asked anyone else, because she thought Ron would get offended by her doubts. Harry scribbled an emphatic "C _ome to the World Cup, Hermione?, You seriously think that as an option? You need to study for the next year's exams, my friend... I'm disappointed in you.. OF COURSE COME TO THE WORLD CUP , YOU IDIOT"_

* * *

 _The prison was large, with neverending walls_ _unchartered. The number of muggles dead for the construction of this_ _miraculous monument was higher than what even Tom Riddle could comprehend... the inmate took his next drink, of the serum that prolonged his life. "I have waited for you, Tom... A long time, yes, but the wait never tired me out"_

 _But. He was no mere slave. He was more. He couldn't place himself. No. Not a servant. The venous channels, that flowed throughout the prison, supplying water, provided him a drink. He remembered why he waited. To serve Tom Riddle._

* * *

The Beauxbatons carriages were waiting in the orchards. Madam Maxime was prowling the avenue while she saw a man come towards her on a Thestral. Travelling with thestrals had never been a fashion in these parts... This man had a rugged look on his face. His beard had a piece of cheese hanging over its edges. He climbed out and commented "Abraxan horses eh? These look well bred and fed. Let me introduce meself. I am Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of the keys... oh um, yeah, professor, at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. You must be Madame Maxime"

"Ah, I expected Dumbledore to send me an envoy. Eez eet about the triwizard tournament? What has dumbledore in store to amuze us?"

"Ah yes, where was I? Yes, um, the triwizard tournament had to be, uh, postponed... there were a few concerns regarding the inhabitants of the great black lake of Hogwarts, and so we had to reschedule some of the tasks planned for the year.

"Oh, Ees eet... oh my... I had informed Dumbleedore that our school year starts and ends a month prior to his own, and he had me convinced that eet wouldn't be a problem..."

"Yes, Ma'am, and that was the reason of my visit. The Headmaster wanted to ensure that you were not changed from that idea."

"Mr. Rubeus, I have given him my word. My students would be here come the end of the month, and a few scheduling issues shouldn't be much of a problem."

"There is another issue ma'am, and Dumbledore wanted this to be private."

* * *

Igor karkaroff smiled. He had been expecting Dumbledore to have changed the plans for the Triwizard tournament because of the new recent news that he had heard from his sources. Severus had confirmed those suspicions. Igor hated the formalities of such a tournament but he had to improve the name of the school. The school had garnered a negative response from the public not because of it in ability to teach but because of the nature of the things that were taught there. You wouldn't call them good.

He Floo called the Krum Residence. Krum wasn't such a good student but he made up for things in Quidditch. He was Igor's model student, and his prodigy in quidditch had not gone to waste, unlike Charlie Weasley of Britain, who had gone looking for Dragons.

Igor had been able to pull some strings because of the gratitude he had garnered from Lucius Malfoy, for not getting his head behind bars of Azkaban during the post-Halloween trials of 1981. He had been forced to sacrifice Rookwood's name, but he knew that playing around with Lucius would not have done him good. He had some political power of his own, but getting Victor through the age restrictions was a monumentous task.

Victor's father was not a simple man. As a person abiding to the pure blood ideologies of old, he had surprisingly enough tolerance to accommodate Muggleborns into the society. For reasons unknown, Igor hadn't even bothered with knowing his name. He called for Victor.

"Victor, the Headmaster is here"

"Coming, mother"

"Ah, Sir, what is it?, How may I help you?"

Igor smiled, his ugly teeth showing, "I merely visited you in anticipation, my child. How are the preparations for the semifinal match going on, eh?"

Krum smiled. "We have been practicing, sir, and Levski has very good coordination. He has-"

"Victor. Your actions would have wider echoes. You should have to maintain stardom, my child. Levski is three years older than you, and you need to train much more than a mere chaser. You are a simple child, and you have already joined the national team. People are looking for you. Give yourself for them to cheer. You have to be the centre of attraction. I know you will be able to win the semifinals, and seeing as the Irish dont put much stake at their seekers, your moves would have to save the matches. Finishing games quickly is not a problem of yours. The chasers should have gotten enough to prevent the other team from winning by then."

"Yes, Sir, I understood it."

"And Victor, the other reason I came here is because I need you to be the one enrolling for an opportunity to bring our school glory."

"And that would be,how, sir?"

"The International council of wizards have lifted their ban on the Triwizard tournament because the limit of a 120 years had ended. The British have decided that this is their chance, to start announcing their triwizard tournament, before Ilvermony, or the Salems have their call. They want Europe to have the 'pride of the new century' as they put it."

"But the tournament is said to have caused all sorts of fatalities, Sir! There have been 48 deaths in the last 23 tournaments, and it was said to have been banned for eternity to prevent the death of the best of the students..."

"Wow, Victor, I had no idea you listened to History of Magic classes. Glory to the school is the utmost victory, and your way of repaying the school your debt of gratitude."

Krum grumbled."I'll do it... sir."

Igor nodded cheerfully. "How are the new brooms that you've been using, huh? I heard the government decided to present them Firebolts for the finals."

"No, sir. That was our petition, and they don't seem to have looked into it yet."

"I'll see what I can do, then."

* * *

Hermione granger opened the letter that she had retrieved from under Errol's whimpering mass of feathers. She took out the piece of paper that was from the twins, and the main content, the letter from Ron.

She took Ron's letter first.

 _Hey Hermione,_

 _How are you? We are all fine here, and I just wanted to get this letter to you before the weekend to Harry's birthday. Please forgive Errol, I had to send Pigwidgeon(the gift from Snuffles) to Harry. I waited for him to reply but before I read it, Ginny took him out for chatting with some Lovegood(Honestly, the L_ _ovegood residence is just a mile away. She could just have walked, in my opinion)_

 _How's Crookshanks? And have you done your researching on primitive bone mending charms that Flitwick put us up to before the vacations? If yes, please bring it when coming for the World Cup. I don't have a clue as to how to proceed with it._

 _Did you hear about Malfoy wanting to push off Dumbledore from the ICW? Dad was furious. He claims Malfoy just wants to usurp Dumbledore off all positions of power because he kept pushing for a truth serum aided questioning for Malfoy after You-Know-Who died._

 _The World Cup is on 25th of august, Thursday, and I think Dad has pre booked tickets too. Curiously I haven't heard much from him about the topic. It's like he is hiding some secret._

 _We will pick you up from the leaky cauldron three days before the match, so come there. Dad says he wants to meet you at your house, but Mom disagrees. Please remove all batteries from yourself before you meet Dad anyway._

 _RSVP, Ron_

She took Fred/George's letter.

 _Hey Hermione,_

 _This letter would probably be a day late, coz we decided to_ _check into Ickle Ronny's letter for hidden Love charms, and confundi(or is it confunduses), and it seems we were right in assuming that he was not into you. You are a good girl, we would like you to be alive, and falling for Ronnykins doesn't seem like survival. Even our ghoul won't like it._

 _The idiot didn't hear Dad at all, then. Dad convinced Ludo Bagman for a couple of tickets to the World Cup final at the top box with VIP seats. Dad was practically bragging about it at dinner too._

 _And could you buy some Erumpent Toenails for some experimenting of our own? We can't be seen wandering down the alley in front of Mom, and she would kill us if we were buying something of that sort..._

 _And please let Ron suffer. Don't bring in the charms essay, or make it long enough to kill Ron_

 _Gred and Forge_

* * *

Charlie Weasley had an unexpected visitor. The Headmaster of Hogwarts.

"Ah, , I was looking forward to meet you after I heard about the promotion."

"That was two years ago, Professor."

"Yes, how could I forget. A Norwegian Ridgeback born in Hogwarts. Norbert, wasn't it? Pity, Hagrid would have loved to see it grow..."

"Ah, sir, it was a female."

"Mmm. My visit is to formally tell you that our order for the Dragons for the Tournament has been cancelled. The problems regarding the second task had me and Bartemius thinking of changing the series of tasks for the tournament."

"I understand it sir. Actually, I expected it. Even bringing in three dragons into Hogwarts would have been a problem, I'm glad that those plans got scraped off."

"There have been problems regarding the usage of non sentient beasts for the tournament, but it has been a practice for years that the tasks should involve arduous conditions."

"And the rumours of an age restriction?"

"They are true, as far as Barty is concerned. And even I don't want to see those twins of yours getting into the tournament. Now that is a fear the Dragons would share..." They both laughed. "There hasn't been an age restriction through the years, and usually the Goblet of Fire selected the most worthy competitors for the tasks ahead. They usually seemed to be of age. But when the last tournament was held, I personally saw a second year competitor strangled in the neck by the snake head of a chimera while the goat fried his face and the lion chewed his legs. That was a gruesome sight to behold, and truly, the ICW thought so. Pity it was also held in Hogwarts..."

* * *

She ran. I followed. Her eyes were blank, and when she saw me, she screamed her lungs out. I had to enter her body and clasp my hands over my mouth to stop her. She had dropped her wand on the way. We went to fetch it. She was talking with my mind. "I surely don't know what I am supposed to do. Don't kill me please." "No, Bertha, you are now my body. You will not come to harm, I can assure you to that." I cast an repairing charm on the glasses as I picked them up. I decided on not taking my core to the surface so as to see and hear whatever happened in the surroundings. I only managed to get a whiff of turban washed in garlic the last time I attempted that. I pushed myself in. She should be happy that she wasn't going to turn bald.

I see through her eyes. The forest looms in front of us, and my pain had faded so much, so much that I didn't even think about the rats and snakes i had been forced to possess.

I command her to reach her bag, and she does so. She had muggle currency, a whole stash of it. She had had her galleons converted to cash.

I probe her mind, but couldn't find a reason for coming here. She seems to just enjoy the bliss of my presence that I used to comfort the host of my parasitic activity. Hmm... I was more of a symbiote. The host will not have their body in pain or anything. But their survival would help me live. In return I gave them power. Power that a mere girl as her could not dream of.

I sense a memory charm holding her back. I couldn't break past it when I was inside her.

She whimpers. I ask her the cause. She sees a building in front of us , reading Hotel Forest House. She hates the thought of me entering there and killing Muggles. I laugh. I am not going to ruin my cover, my dear Bertha.

I feel a urge for blood. Unicorn blood had saved my life, but the need had been just another manifestation of its power. Killing an unicorn was an extremely dark thing to do, and even he, lord voldemort, had backed out of that deed. I had simply found an injured unicorn, which had stumbled into an acromantula horde. I had hid its body, and came for it every month with a preserving and a blood replenishing charm till it died. To have Harry Potter and the accursed centaur enter the scene was unexpected, and I had been forced to leave, lest his identity lost before the acquisition of the philosopher's stone.

I remember the touch of the boy, and all that had come out of it was pain and hadn't felt pain like that till the beginning of summer in the year of 1993, when he had felt pain as if his soul was sheared apart. Even making an horcrux wouldn't hurt so much, I think.

Ah, the horcrux. I direct Bertha into walking towards the rotten tree, that Rowena Ravenclaw herself couldn't place, even after her daughter had just died 3 feet apart, stabbed to death by the Baron. The tree had contained the long lost Diadem of Ravenclaw herself, and he had stupidly hidden it in the castle of Hogwarts, after which he reveled under the thought of doing it under Dumbledore's very crooked nose. Now he had to find another one of his horcruxes, to have a fuller soul, so that he would be able to endure this pain.

No more than a yard in the direction of the tree, Bertha cried out loud. He had accidentally shared his thoughts, and hence, his pain with her, and this sensation made her fall to her knees, and we blacked out, a burly man from the hotel running towards us being our last sight.

* * *

 _He screamed. The memory charm of the old man had left him the moment the lightning struck his prison. He remembered everything. The false memories left him. He was no servant, he was the lord. He was king over mortals, he ruled over them in... ahhh..._

 _The guardians of this prison do not suck out souls. They didn't exist, even. He was kept alive in a bare minimum... he remembered his name, and the feeling of dread flew over him. How much time had passed? The next vial of the elixir would have to be preserved. He had no use for gold, nor life. His life was not ended when his wand left him. Nor when he killed his friend's most precious jewel. Nor when he lost his school, protected forever from his likes, with the chains that kept death at bay lost for eternity._

 _He rose, and exclaimed his claim. "The master of Death has arisen. Again. Plead, Albus, and you shall be punished."_

 _The disappearance of the red bird with the golden plumage made him laugh, as he fell forward, the White light of the Obliviating curse hitting him from behind, coming from the stolen wand of Death. He fell forwards. The water splashed on his face, as he suddenly screamed "Tom Riddle!"_

* * *

( _At the same time)_

The black lake was swirling. As Dumbledore shouted nonsense into the air, he got his replies. He then plunged his face into the water, his face morphing with gills appearing on his cheeks. He wasn't called the greatest transmogrifier of his era for mere needles to matchsticks shifts.

He spoke to the lady of the deep, who commanded her sons in full battle armour to stay put. He asked for her help with finding the greatest of the three, and she replied, with gratitude, the answer that would allow Dumbledore to access his goal.

She removed her veil, and called Dumbledore forth. He entered the water, and walked with her, through her gardens of anemones.

:your hospitality pleases me, if it wasn't for your timely warning, the danger could never have been averted:

:it pleases me that our lake has always been connected to hogwarts by means unfathomable by any of the anybody else had been the authority, it would still have been informed. It is duty, rather than a favour:

:has the item been secured?:

:yes, it has, but you need to imbibe the stasis charms which can protect even humans, and we need a wizard to do that,i'm afraid:

:i would do it, milady:

:we need to go to the grove, the squid wouldn't dare disturb us there:

A bright flash of light, and a screech later, the merpeople were found staring at a white Phoenix which said, in fluent mermish, :i have left in lieu of an urgent matter, i am sorry if it had offended you, and i shall return shortly:

* * *

Bertha was a good host. Once she realised that she wasn't in any kind of danger, she did not have any problem in me staying within her.

She comments, "Is the room above up to your expectations, Tom?"

"Do not use that name, it offends me"

She sipped her coffee. "You ain't My Lord, Tom"

"In any case, don't refer to me. You think anything, and I know about it. There isn't the need for you to mention my filthy muggle father's name."

Another sip. "Haha, I'm half blood. What are you gonna do about it, huh"

She laughed, pulling a strand of hair in front, and twisting it with her left hand.

"I don't care. I'm half blood too"

"Where do we go now, then"

"You know, Quirinus was practically begging me to leave his body, spending the rest of the time under the Cruciatus. You are different."

"You see, I know that you need me. You said yourself that rats and snakes hate followers are in jail. Dumbledore is watching. You want a silent friend, rather than a frightened slave. I am just exploiting my position."

"Changing the topic, we need to go to great hangleton. There is a plan that I would like to attempt tonight."

"Okay, Brace yourselves for another Apparation"

I decide that Jorkins might come useful, but she tries my patience.

* * *

Peter saw the form twist in the air. He smelled his master from a mile ahead, and he was looking at Bertha Jorkins sip her coffee while laughing to herself. He planned to approach her, but it was too late.

He started busying himself to the half empty cup of coffee. He shifted back to his human form.

He twirled the Yew and Phoenix feather wand, refilling the cup, and ordered for the cheapest food the restaurant had, and after a few multiplying charms, and chewing, his stomach was full. He now realised that he had to pay the bill.

* * *

"Show me your wand"

"Willow and unicorn hair, 12 inches. Good for defending, but poor in casting. That's what Ollivander said."

"Open the door. Say what I say."

After a few trails of parseltongue, the accent was right and the door creaked. She pushes it open and enters. Most tables are normal, but the one I had broken had remained so. The leg flies up and starts tapping the floorboards each floorboard creaking in different frequencies but in unison

Bertha is not amused. She asks me my plan. I stay silent, chanting the cure to the poison that the dust shaken up by the table leg created.

She chokes, but gets normal. She asks the reason. I reply. She goes forward, cutting across to the one floorboard not tapped. "You have good eyes my dear Bertha. How did you possibly notice that"

"A ministry employee always has eyes-"

"-for gossip and rumours" I say.

"Whatever" She rolls her eyes.

She levitates the ring out of the gold encrusted box, while I commence feeling bad for myself. Literally.

The only way you kill your own horcrux, is remorse. Remorse for having created it.

"Can I touch it." "No"

"Continue your brooding."

Just as the first tear drop I mustered for Morfin Gaunt, my uncle (The kill for this horcrux were my father and his parents, but I won't feel sorry for them. They didn't deserve anything out of me. Atleast Morfin had given up his life in Azkaban for my kill, so I decided that he was worth crying for.) falling down my imaginary face, I realise that something was missing.

The ring had started melting without any change in its shape, but its jewel was not on it. It had been there when I created it. I swelled in anger. If my remorse had hit it, then the jewel was not the horcrux. The ring had been it. I could feel my soul enter me, but I did not _feel_ the jewel as my horcrux. So the ring had been it.

What happened to my jewel? Where could it have gone?

* * *

 **Reviews please, and would you like me to post regular short updates or long weekly ones? Pm me**

 **And for clarification, the white Phoenix is the talking patronus thing that We are introduced to in the seventh book (by Kingsley), that conveys messages.**


	3. Too many memory charms to remember

**Chapter 3- Too many memory charms to remember**

 **Author's note: Chapter edited, event added to end of chapter, don't miss it.**

* * *

I feel power coursing through her veins. She relishes the power so much, I could already see that her eyes had tears trickling down her cheeks. She asks me "You killed your parents." It is not a question, she is just stating it. "Yes" I say.

"For creating this." I realised it. It wasn't a response to the power that she shared, but the memory of the kill that had shocked her. I am disappointed. "They deserved it."

"Do not make vague reasons for justifying the evil you have -" I cut her short, and she clutches her throat. "Do you feel it? I am more human now, more mortal. But my anchors help me stay in this wretched world that I try to cure. We could be killed right now, and I shall rise out from your corpse and search for a new host-"

"That makes you nothing short of a parasite. You are a psychopath. Do you know that each kill the ministry makes, each kill even those Dementors make, they are put to rest in proper graves, with their families nearby. Every single one of your death eaters have been honoured in their deaths for the little good they have done. I am not going to let you do this anymore."

Silly Bertha. "You need to calm down, get some of that coffee, my dear Bertha."

"Don't 'dear' me, you wretch."

I stay silent. I know I am persuasive, but I also know when to remain silent.

She realises something that I forgot.

Her disappearence would not be overlooked upon by the ministry, especially Dumbledore.

While Bertha plans her escape from me, I plan for the Wizarding World to give a glimpse of Bertha.

* * *

The window opened, as Harry got a gust of wind on his face. He proceeded to close the window, but a crumpled piece of paper flew in. He opened it and saw words written in the fine cursive of a well known person. He looks down, as that was what the paper asked him to do.

To see the man in muggle attire was almost normal. Despite his eccentricities, which even wizards and witches saw in him, he looked perfectly normal.

"Come on, Harry. We have work", Dumbledore shouted.

Harry rushed down the stairs, then returned back for his wand to his room. "Don't bring anything of yours. And you know Harry, the Decree for the Prevention of Underage Wizardry is still in play, and Mafalda would not be pleased if the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot would allow one of his students to do it in Muggle London."

He came down, and saw Dumbledore in the lawn. Petunia was watching out of her window, apparently dumbfounded.

He asked Dumbledore "Um, sir? Where exactly are we going in Muggle London?

"Ah, just a street past the Leaky cauldron, m'boy. It is that time of the year when I have myself prepared to give the faculty new colleagues. Remus left after Severus ..., well, you know, so now we are at a shortage again. So I thought I could possibly bring back an old friend of mine, who already has teaching experience in his field of expertise. But believe me, Horace is a good man too, and he has quite an unusual liking to bring people of talent to the spotlight. How do you feel about Apparation, Harry?

Harry shook his head, and said "I've seen some students do it during the practice sessions in Hogwarts, sir. The sixth years. I know nothing more about it."

"Hold my hand, Harry."

The blur arrived and disappeared, and Harry found himself scowling, both because of the darkness of the Cauldron, and also because Apparation was earning a spot on his Never-To-Do-Again list.

Tom grinned, his teeth showing. "Good morning, Professor, anything I can get you? Funny clothing style, but I like it off you, Sir."

"Thank you Tom, but I have to get going. I have some business to attend."

" I am sorry Harry, but I think you will have to afford another visit to Diagonal Alley later this summer for your books. The new teacher, whomsoever it might be, as I am not placing my bets anywhere, would set their own curriculum, and they would choose the books to be read."

A"Yes Sir" followed his words.

Harry was finding it difficult to follow Dumbledore. He was fast, his strides were long, and Harry was practically running.

He stopped at a house, royal in appearance, and knocked. The doors swinged open.

They went past the doors, and there was a long corridor, ending in a grand room. Three chandeliers, with the central one emitting a comfortable white glow, a man with a large belly and a moustache that made him look like someone's rich uncle welcomed them. Or more truthfully, he welcomed Dumbledore.

"Albus!" They hugged, and Dumbledore was patting his back. "How is dear old Hogwarts. I had a visit from Bill Weasley from my last batch. He was quite sincere, actually. He commmented over how good my few classes were compared to the ones taught now. Who did you select as my replacement, really, huh?"

"That was one of the issues with Hogwarts, my friend. I would need you to come back to the school, and provide your services to the youth of the new decade."

"I am in retirement, Albus. It suits me well. I already feel my age leaping onto my brilliance." He grinned, as Dumbledore conjured and levitated two Butterbeers onto the table. "Take a seat, Albus."

Dumbledore motioned past the table, and Harry took the other seat. Only then did the man, Horace, look at him. "Who is this, Albus?"

"Ah, that is Harry Potter, Horace, and-"

"Ah, I get it. Exploiting my 'weakness', huh?" He gave a thunderous cackle.

"What, Albus? You really think I would come back to the school? I wouldn't dare come for you. I can see where you hint at. I don't have such a memory, Albus. Don't suspect me. Pity you, using this mere child for persuading me."

"Lily's child."

"I don't care. I have spent too long at that castle, and please let me live my retired life of pensions, pineapples and... Here, Boy, take this. I'm not so into this activity of merrymaking anymore.

Dumbledore frowned, and looked at this 'Horace'. "Please. I am not so ignorant or desperate as to investigate you with a tampered bottle of Butterbeer. Please see reason, my friend."

Harry was looking over, unsure of the situation, while the man snatched the bottle from his face and peered onto the label. "Rosmerta!" He exclaimed, and took a swig, the kind Hagrid would be proud of. He sighed, with content. Two refilling charms later, and with another bottle conjured for Harry, slug horn was chatting some less serious matters with Dumbledore, when the topic came up.

"You remember Severus, don't you, Horace.?

"Which one, Albus, the tall or the short?"

"The short."

"Yeah, he used to have so many additions to common techniques, he could have become a good one, if he weren't so antisocial. Remember the Wizard and the Hopping Pot?"he chuckled. "What about him, Albus, I remember him being in the same year as Lily."

"He joined Hogwarts, Horace. He became the professor of Potions and the head of Slytherin."

"Good lord, he succeeded me. What, am I that old already. I remember him knowing every single herb from The Compendium when he was in his second year. Merlin's pants-"

"You taught Potions?" Harry blurted out.

"Yes, m'boy. Haven't heard of me? Professor Horace Slughorn, Potions master" He traced an imaginary banner over the air. "I used to teach there till... what year was it, Albus?

Dumbledore replied" '81. The year Lily di-"

"Ah the year the Dark Lord fell. It was freedom, my boy. Do you realise it. When You-Know-Who fell under your baby hands, it was a time we rejoiced, and relished. Albus here, still wanted us to have our daily dose of nightmares, and doesn't stop at a chance to frighten us with stories of His return. I say, enjoy life." He ended that line with a nonverbal refilling charm.

Dumbledore folded his hands, and asked Slughorn to reconsider his decision. It seemed as if Dumbledore was implying more than what he meant. Slughorn refused. At point black.

Soon, Harry and Dumbledore were on the streets, walking out the distance to the next destination Dumbledore had in mind.

Harry pestered him with questions, but his replies were vague, and in the end, he suggested that Harry should meet him at his room, monthly, weekly or as times implied, daily, for some classes that Dumbledore mentioned were Insight.

Halfway through, he clasped Harry's hand, and said " I would rather you get back home. I'll visit Alastor myself."

"Oh, sir I... ok then, sir"

After they landed, and Harry came over his nausea, he asked Dumbledore if he wasn't going back to the Burrow after a quick look at his surroundings . Dumbledore replied in the negative, saying that visitors should never be barging into houses, and rather be invited." Ironic.

Now it was Dudley staring through the window, as Dumbledore twisted into thin air.

* * *

"Albus, are you there?" Yes, Severus."

"Did he come back?"

"No"

Snape sweared. He had hoped that the DADA post would be free this year, and his castles of hope shattered.

"And..."

I had to visit Alastor, Severus. He accepted the post."

The connection was cut by Snape. Dumbledore returned to his thoughts.

"Where are you, Bertha?..."

* * *

My spells had covered it, I am sure. It has to be the old man, or had the child been groomed enough to take over? I did not care for once, because my soul had been unharmed, but theoretical procedures of horcrux making were preserved in areas hard to reach. Knowledge about Dark magic had rarely been kept a secret in the past, where wizards and witches were true showoffs. But now, a single trial of the Imperius on a sentient being was considered illegal.

The ring had had the ensignia of the peverell brothers, Antioch, Cadmus and Ignorus. Assumptions that these were the entities created by Death himself had plagued the minds of many in history.

The story of the Three Brothers had cropped up in every reference to the mark of the so called Deathly Hallows. The stories had minor variations, however, in each version, beginning to associate the first brother as the one with the Hairy heart from the other story, and having wilder accusations till ending up with the third brother being reincarnated as Harry Potter, defeater of Death.

I am now Bertha Jorkins, reading in the library of the Ministry of Magic. I just had one more plan. To visit the head of her department, Ludovich Bagman.

* * *

 **3 Years earlier**

The summoning enchantment took only an hour. Albus Dumbledore was sure that the items were sufficient enough. Unlikely as it sounded, this was a action of the light. Summoning a property, while giving conformation that he was the rightful owner of the item, would not be remotely dark.

Identifications were to be provided for getting the object of desire.

Hence, he had to hold the Elder wand, wear the Cloak of Invisibility, and use the Philosophers stone's elixir( He had kept the stone under full protections in the third floor corridor) and some spare gold from the stone too.

The wand and the cloak, one won by conquest, and one under safeguard, were rightfully his, while the essence of the stone was personally extracted by him. The essence signified Death in a rather vague manner, but he figured it will suffice.

This was his chance at getting closest to the one thing that being the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, Chief of the Wizengamot, Head of Hogwarts, and 2/3 lord of death cannot give you.

Your Sister.

It had worked.

The stone rested on the ground. It was not unlike a pebble. The legend of Death plucking off a pebble from his river seemed possible. To Dumbledore, everything now sounded possible. He was jubilant, ecstatic, and all words that could describe happiness could now apply to him.

He rolled his fingers around the stone, picking it from the floor. The room had not suffered much damage, simply seeing that it was a recovering charm, commonly used by wizards robbed on the roadside after their wand was forgotten at home.

His hands fumbled, and he reached forward, slipped and found his hands grasping the feet of Ariana.

* * *

 **Back to the present**

The streets of Muggle London are packed, the people bustling about. Bertha was not sure if the Ministry was equipped enough to detect his presence, but I do not want to take chances. She crosses a giggling couple, and my urges to hex at their foolish faces was muffled under Bertha's command. I do not surely know if absorbing the horcrux benefitted me or her.

She passes down an alley, and knocks on the wall, and shouts, "Bludgers to my head."

I stare at her, with disbelief. The walls disappear, while I expected their shifting, and the image of the pink cheeks of Ludo Bagman pierced my optic tract.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to turn up. No letters, no memos, no sticky notes. Why do I even bother, you ask."

" Ludo, I-"

"Come in, come in. Where are my manners, oh Bertha... oh" He mimics a face of realisation. He is a bad actor. " Oh I don't have any. Hahaha. " He was still doing the fake laugh, when he sinks into the couch, and talks about random happenings, and other names which Bertha probably recognised. The entry of Dumbledore into politics was never one I would have supported. Looking at what he has turned this world into. A infestation of Half bloods and Mudbloods. As if the ministry couldn't get worse.

It starts to get interesting when he starts on the matter of the Triwizard tournament, which was supposed to be held at Hogwarts this year. They had never held it in my school years, and I had had no reason to investigate into it, but when Bagman explained the idea behind three seemingly impossibly dangerous tasks, performed by students, most of who fell to their deaths, it sounded just like the plans I would think of for those miserable mudbloods.

The doorbell rings. Some short statured idiots are arguing if it is 'bludgers till death' or 'bludgers kill'. They apparently got the right password before they started knocking heads was what I could get out of the conversation, due to my limited knowledge of Gobbledegook.

The enter the room, as if they own the place, and then frown at Bagman. You cheated us! The Irish could never win the match against Finland. The match was prefixed!"

"Now, now Grasper, don't go on making wild accusations" He shook his hands in an act of resignation.

"You. Will. Pay. Us. The full. Amount. Understood?" He rasped.

"What? You can't possibly"

" We can. You own us the 14 galleons and 15 sickles you bet against Finland, and since you cheated-"

"I DO NOT CHEAT" roared Bagman, and that made the goblins back off.

"I am a respected member of the wizarding society and I won't accept such accusations against my good name, you filthy-"

I know my cue. I enter the fray, as Bertha, of course, and offer them all a treat of fire whiskey, the gift of my/her returning. Bertha needn't worry. She was a Halfblood, and anyone in the good books of the ministry's hotshots would get a good pay.

The walk to the nearest pub is short, and we reach it in minutes, a group of grumpy goblins trailing us.

Soon, they were immersed in fire whisky, while Bertha only had some more coffee. These muggle like tendencies are what makes the wizarding population fall prey to their fallacies. Drinking coffee, using the telephone, and other activities. I am not ignorant of such means. It is just that I do not prefer such mundane futilities while we have been given a goal of upholding the wizarding society.

They get drunk. The coffee is good. I have a slight infatuation for coffee now, that I hadn't realised in some time. But how could one drink this in excess, huh.

I consume 8 refillings of coffee. I love this thing.

"I have checked out Cornelius. He is one of the worsht ministers in the recent ones. I have known his kind, believe me. Whatever that idiot xenofil- jenofilis- zonofiliush writes in his trash named the chibbler, its all pure garbage. But you know the part where he mentions Fudge cooking your folk in pies, you know, I believe it's true."

"What! That moron" The goblin to Grasper's right lolls his head and falls. I learn that Goblins can get intoxicated.

"I haven't gotten to the best part yet, folks. He apparently has a set of Cornish pixies that he sets upon on you guys. But me, I , ludicrous ... ludovish bagman, I shall take over what is mine. They put me in Azkaban for suspicions on Augustus, for giving him a set of tickets to the Harpies playing the Tornadoes. How was I possibly supposed to know that that idiot was a death eater, hmm? What am I? Cassandra Trelawney?"

"..." Grasper was down now, and Bagman was now talking to himself. The third goblin was nowhere in sight.

"You know that, Bertha. Mark my wordsh. I'm gonna take over, everyone kneels on my feet, even that idiot Voldy tah mouldy. I'll show them. I'll show fudge..."

With that, his head falls on the table, slips and falls to my lap. Bertha and I are on the same track. We roll down his headand as he hit the floor, he shouted."Aand i shalt see thee, Bertha, on Monday. Thou hath missed a lot of work, and I demandeth thy apologisssszzzz... " He starts snoring. We are mutually disgusted, and and just go out.

* * *

Ludo bagman woke up to see two unconscious goblins on chairs above him, with him lying on the floor. He stood, searched their pockets, and emptied their purses and replaced them with his own planned galleons that he had wanted to give them before they left. It was Leprechaun gold, and would disappear the following day. He counted the gain, and it had amounted to 47 galleons. Good.

He went back home, and washed his face. He hadn't drunk this much in a few weeks. He remembered his oath to himself. Always check whatever you speak. Look back and erase any incompatibility.

He dragged the Penseive, took a bowl of popcorn, at jumped in to the previous night.

When he returned, he decided that Bertha Jorkins had to forget some memories for her Head of Department.

* * *

"Dudley, you prat. Why do you drag me into your meaningless arguments? Just go down the street and you'll find the 8 year olds you love to bully. Just leave me alone!"

"I punched that guy from over the bridge, and he was like, I just got my lesson now, thanks. He was three years older than me. Just accept it, Harry. I'm better."

"Oh, and so you went with your gang, and while they all held that guy, you came up, mustered the courage and broke his face. So manly, Duddikins."

SMACK

"You fool." Harry wanted to show he was not in pain, so he did an imitation of Malfoy. "Just wait till my Godfather Sirius Black hears about this!" He smirked. He realised what he had said.

Polkiss drifted off, and within a few moments, his father arrived at the spot.

"You, Boy, what didja say? Ma son says you had a father figure in the convict. Is that true?

"I was just... I just... "

A single police car came near the spot in some minutes. Harry wondered if he could call help somehow, but every option alerted the ministry faster than Dumbledore. He chose the best option by far.

He blacked out.

A cat like creature saw the scene, and went back home to call its mistress.

* * *

"And Harry, do you think it is amusing to get Sirius' name stuck in with the muggles to amuse yourself?

Harry hung his head and shook his head side to side. Dumbledore had obliviated the last of the witnesses, and it was time for confrontation.

"Harry, actions have repercussions. You should know that fact. But using your godfather's name, while he is still a convict under the face of law, is despicable behaviour. I expected better of you.

"I... "

"You said to yourself that an imitation of was in order. I fail to see the humorous side of it. Hadn't Arabella warned me in time, this might have gone into the hands of the Obliviators. Yes, Harry, Miss Figg is a well known acquaintance. Unfortunately, she is quite like our poor Mr Filch , but that shouldn't make us sway from the present business."

"Sorry, sir. I promise I would think about the consequences before I do anything."

"You are going to be taken back to the Burrow by Ronald Weasley tomorrow. Can I send you there, a bit early, just in case, if you don't mind-?"

The appearance of the happiness in Harry's face told him that he didn't mind.

He sent Molly a patronus, and left to the Burrow after it returned in the affirmative.

After the unpleasant feeling of Apparation shot through him, he found himself in the lawn of the Weasley's house.

Molly came out. Fred and George were sticking out behind her, and called out in a chorus" Hello there, Professor!" Dumblodore smiled and came in, Molly following, holding Harry in her arms.

"Did you mean Mrs Figg? Professor?"

"She was an old friend, Harry. Unfortunate, born without a hint of magic. Her family left her, but she joined us in the cause against Voldemort. She has been watching over you, but she couldn't reveal herself before you, as you might understand. You deserved a bit of normalcy before you were exposed to fame and popularity, that would cruelly and consistently remind you of your parent's deaths and sacrifices."

"No talking at the dinner table." Came Molly's voice as she zoomed from the kitchen.

After a bite of dinner, Dumbledore left, whike handing Harry a letter."I was asked to pass it on, Harry. He has agreed with my decision of a safe house. It would be good if you converse a bit more, he is longing for human support after his ordeals." he whispered.

"Who?" asked the twins, twirling a piece of twine. "Nothing of interest, boys" said Dumbledore, proceeding to call them both in for a private conversation.

Harry fought the urge to let out a girly scream. He picked the fleshy things off the ground gingerly, "The extendable ear is a very good invention. " came the voice of Dumbledore as he came out of the twins' group. "It is the purpose that is questionable." and with a pretense of checking his surroundings, he said. "Keep that information out of your mother's ears, will you please. It wouldnt do to hurt a poor innocent man like our friend. And i am sure you both will like him. He is one of the makers of that wonderful map of yours."

The twins stared at each other, and then at Dumbledore with disbelief.

Molly entered the room, after some distant shouts from Ginny about not wanting to sleep. "Sorry, Harry, my dear, Ron went to sleep early due to some..." She glared at the twins, and they stopped sniggering. "idiots messing with his socks."

"You would think a person would get used to spiders after beating a horde of Acromantula. But no, Ronnikins is still screaming and hit the doorframe. A superb display of courage for a Gryffi-"

"Shut up, Fred. You see the mother who was going to shout at you while calling you by my name in front of us, you should have had the sense to announce your name beforehand."

"Right you are, Fred. Sorry for that."

"Go to bed, you two." they chorused the "Yes, Mom" and climbed the stairs, making a display of trying to trip each other while ascending.

Molly stared, and Dumbledore broke her train of thought. "And thank you Molly, for the wonderful dinner. I leave your company now, and see you at school, Harry!"

Harry asked where he was suplosed to sleep, and Molly pointed him to Ron's room, where she had arranged the bed for him when she had gone to make sure Ginny had slept.

"Good night, Harry. It's almost ten and Arthur hasn't come back home. You see him at morning. He was actually looking forward to meeting your relatives..."

Harry went to the bed, and took out Sirius' letter, while checking if was out of sight.

The letter was a bit shorter than the ones he wrote so far, and informative because it had been given through safe hands.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _How are you? I am fine and I am staying at my mother's old Manor, for the time, because Albus asked me letter would probably come with the Headmaster, because he wants me to not be seen sending out Owls. Do not worry, my letters can be posted by owls into my letterbox, from where I can summon them to read. I thought of attaching an item that would help us with communication, but maybe I'll attach it to the Christmas gift._

 _Do not panic about my sightings in London. I did it with my full interest, just to get the Umbridge woman running. She was the one who stopped Remus from getting a job just because he was a werewolf. Albus is one of the reasons why Moony could work at Hogwarts. She is a nightmare, always enforcing pure blood rights (A bit hypocritical , since she herself is Half blood, as far as I know.)_

 _I just frightened her, and she was running out in panic, even before those muggles ran off. I ran to another street, transformed and chased her as Padfoot. I saw that they omitted that news in the Prophet._

 _How are Hermione and Ron? And how is that little bird of his behaving? Ask them as I don't know for sure if my letters will reach them personally._

 _And let it be said here, it will probably be hidden from you guys cause it's classified information, (it has reached a convict, but not students of the school. I'm crying.), The triwizard tournament has been declared by the Board of Governors to be held at Hogwarts this year, and based on history, quidditch would be cancelled this year. So play all you want when you get to the Burrow for the World Cup._

 _Enjoy life, Harry. I'll try asking Dumbledore for permission to visit Hogwarts as Padfoot, but I know it won't be possible. Maybe just for live relays of the Tournament._

 _Worm has not been spotted yet, but its all a matter of time. Dumbledore assigned Auror Shacklebolt to find him, and the fun part is that he is officially the head of the team looking for me._

 _take care,_

 _Sirius_

 _p.s. It's good to sign in my own name back again. Notice the 'S' looks like a dog's tail. I am ingenius_.

After rereading the letter once more, Harry rolled over, hid the letter in his trunk(They had magically appeared half an hour after the Headmaster left.) and started to sleep, while remarking about the comfort the bed offered.

His dreams were mixed with a strange lot of Chocolate frogs, leaping onto Fred and George's hands(who somehow shared a single body), while in the corner, he peeked into a room in the clouds, where a man was searching furiously through some records. Harry moved out of his sight, and knew that he must not get caught. He randomly walked off in another direction, before finding a rack of records which were covered with a magical fog. He waved his wand, and with some spell that he did not recognise, the clouds of fog diappeared, while leaving out a book that was being restricted by the fog. The book sprang open, and a visual started rolling off in his mind within the dream. A bald old man was shouting at her, whoever she was, and then he shouted an Obliviatus curse on her, while picking off the cloak on the ground and shrouding the boy next to him (who had a mentally retarded look on his face). Harry gasped, but didn't know the reason. The woman was pushed out of the room, and then kicked out, while she was unconscious. He placed another Obliviatus on her and that was all she knew. Harry scoured around, shifting pages on the books on the side apparently at some need to know the man's address, while the man with the other record on the outside shouted " Obliviate" and he just left. Harry felt a tug, dragging him along the man as he woke up in bed.

* * *

The sound of Bertha's doorbell ringing pulls me out of my thoughts. The clock rings ten.

Bertha opens the door, and in came the form of Ludo Bagman. "Ludo!" "Yes Bertha, it's me."

I see his eyes. "Bertha, ask him the purpose for his visit." He was literally twisting his wand in front of her and she didn't mind it. Honestly, the nitwits they hire at the ministry these days. The Death Eaters had fierce competition those days, with the likes of Alastor Moody when fighting was a beautiful scene. Attacks came out of nowhere, and he would go around, barking "Constant vigilance." It was when Evan took a piece of his nose, did that old bull get silenced. Then Evan Rosier had his laugh. His last laugh. The forces that Dumbledore set up never touched the Unforgivables, but used less lethal charms with such expertise and such creativity, unlike dear Bella. It was a waste of my time and I escaped, with Moody shouting "Constant vigilance" over Rosier's body, while my followers running off.

I see him, Bagman, and he glares at Bertha. "You know why I came."

"Why, Ludo, it hasn't hit my mind yet."

He enters her mind. I swear colourfully. I shout out a Shield charm without thinking. The power of my horcrux enabled my to cast wandless spells, I think.

Ouch. The shield protects my mind from being tampered with, but Bertha was still out. I look around. I was in her mind, but I see her mind as books, rather than as my mind as it usually appeared.

I realised I had entered her mind as well, and proceeded to her corridors. Bagman was shuffling pages off a record. I pass by. It wouldn't do me good to be seen.

I thought of the memory fogging that I had detected in Bertha. I go through to my destination. The untrained mind presents itself to you. It is like the friend who trusts you to his death. Or maybe the slave that is bound to you by oath. There is no escape.

I see the book that I searched for. The Obliviating curse is the blanket from outside. It covers the book with a fog, that makes that book unopenable. Is that even a word?

When cast inside the mind, the Obliviatus is a 'book destroyer'. It sends out the fog into the book and clears entire pages. This was cast from outside, a blanket on the book. To see the book, you remove the blanket.

The fog clears with a simple spell, and I wonder where the wand in my hand came from. I just had it in my hand, and it did not look like mine, or Bertha's. I don't care.

The book opens, and I see a wizened Crouch Senior flag down Bertha with a memory charm, and pick up an invisibility cloak from the ground. He covers a figure with straw coloured hair with it. Barty Crouch Junior. I do not know, or care how he survived, but now I had a follower. Without other affiliations. Without risks. A servant, in the word's pure sense. Crouch casts the silent glow of the Imperius on him without even using the wand movement.

Bertha wriggles, and Crouch kicks her out of the room, and down the door. He casts another memory charm and all turns black.

I need to know Crouch's address. I search the books nearby. Right then, I hear yet another memory charm close by. I felt a pull, and in an instant I am back in Bertha, the wand disappears and Bagman leaned over. "Nothing, dear Bertha, nothing at all. Just a small thing I said in my 'drunken stupor' that you needed to forget." He picked off the Butterbeer off the table, and woke her up with a "Rennervate!"

"What happened, my dear? You just fainted, and hadn't I been here to catch you, you would have hit the table.

"Thanks Ludo."

"I just came to ask you if you had seen my keys to the Cupboard of mine. It disappears off and reappears at some Ministry employee's house randomly."

"No, I haven't been to the ministry yet, Ludo."

"Okay. Get them back to me if they are in your table." "Um, no Ludo, I am momentarily caught up with some.. uh... personal... business of mine." She takes off her glasses and rubs them on her kerchief. "Could I take a vacation now? I haven't got one in ages?"

She wipes her hands, rubbing her hands and giving him the look that cats give you after they destroy the house.

Naturally, Bagman agrees.

* * *

 **The next chapter will be fast forwarded to the weekend when Hermione arrives, and there will be no flashbacks, only whatever the characters talk about the last few days.**

 **Okay, what characters do you want next in the story? Please review. I am seriously bored, so I will surely find time to reply to each review, positive or negative.**


	4. Countdown

**Countdown. Two days to the World Cup finale**

Hermione walked through the aisles, searching Fred and George's item. As a Class Four dangerous substance, it was illegal to buy or sell it in certain parts of the continent. But in magical Britain, it had a well marketed use as a potent ingredient in a set of Vasodilating solutions. Other potions, with better results were available, but an Erumpent was so huge, an entire batch of the vasodilator scan be made out of it. The budget cuts of could afford that She did not know what they were planning on doing, but a slight modification in the procedure of that potion can also have effects of a Moustache growing potion.

She thanked the owner of the apothecary, and when she returned, she saw her parents talking with an overenthusiastic . He was showing them how the wand worked, (They had never seen magic since the admission procedures, when McGonagall had demonstrated a levitation, and the year before the last's brawl between Arthur and Malfoy's dad was anything but magical.)a bit animatedly, with folk all around shaking their heads. It was a good thing when Fred (or George) slipped beside her, and got the bag from her, when caught hold of her and dragged her on."We've got work to do, Hermione. Dumbledore sent us all the lists for the next year a bit early. He figured we won't have time for it after the Cup."

"Hey, Hermione!" "Hi Harry!"

"Hey Hermione! Did you know? Dad got us Prime seats to the World Cup final. The head of the department of magical sports is a friend, you see..""Hey Ron"

"You should have seen the Bulgarian team defeat the Czech. It was truly magnificent!" said Harry.

She frowned, and gave an expression that she wanted to say "I don't care!" but then asked "So the final is Ireland versus the Bulgarians? I hope Ireland wins. The country is beautiful."

"Then Ron will bite your neck off. He wants Krum to become the next Minister of Magic. Hi Hermione!"

"Hey, Ginny!" Ron scowled and made a face at his sister. "You look better when you do that, Ronnykins. Parkinson would have made a good match." Fred sniggered.

"Where's Percy? I thought you were all coming.. oh, he graduated, didnt he?"

"Yep, Bighead boy graduated, with his ten 'O's and an E in charms. the poor kid was so upset, he shut himself up in his room, and made up for his sins. The good thing was an entire afternoon without him."

"Ooh.. this 'E' ,is it bad?

" It means Exceeds expectations, and it is the second highest grade after O, which stands for Outstanding. He is just a prat. The good thing was that mom forgot our OWLs."

"You passed, right?" "Yeah, we did, and Dumbledore made a special mention of our expertise in 'creative and productive skills'. George loves Dumbledore for that. Unlike the "T, which stands for 'Troll' from dear . We didn't know that internal grading mattered, till Snape got his revenge on us. "

Hermione took the topic to the grading system, and one of the twins explained it to her.

"So, Fred, who do you think will win the Cup,huh?" Harry asked.

"Just because I referred to him as George, dosen't make me Fred."

Harry stared. "He is just joking. I am Fred." said the other twin. "I was George a moment ago, but that dosent make me who I am now."

"Shut up, you two. Harry, Hermione, come with me. I wanted to show you something." said Ginny. Ron trailed along. "She called for Harry and Hermione, and seeing you are neither, why are you following them, Ronny?"

He ignored them and went on.

"I bet he will make prefect by the next year." "I bet you win that one."

* * *

Crouch Senior is in the next room. I see his balding head. I shoved a strand of hair away from my eye. It tilted my glasses a bit.

I pushed off the cup of coffee. Bertha sniggers, and I look for the reason. The corridor was being messed up with a man who had swatted at a memo, and all the other memos had started attacking him. Crouch turned and shouted, causing silence. He notices me, and motions me forward. He hid his guilt very well.

His assistant, who looks like a Weasley, came forward and collects the ledgers from me. I ask for the other form that the Chudley Cannons had to fill up before December of that year to get their accounts shifted to another unified account. For no apparent reason, all forms were issued here.

"Are you in first name terms with him, Bertha?" "Yeah, I think so." "Then let me speak to him."

"Barty, I heard it from Ludo about the Tournament. Could you provide me the proposed pamphlets that-"

"Do not speak of that man here Bertha. Weatherby, bring me my tea. These-" he pulls out a stack,"-and these-" another smaller stack"-are the ones to be gone through. Inform _him_ that he could contact my assistant-" He points at Weatherby, " -and that he will take care of it efficiently."

The assistant was suppressing a proud grin.

"Um, the pamphlets, please."

As I leave the room, after a minute of talking with him, I get the idea that he was a respected member of the society, and it would not be in order to hold a civilised conversation.

Still, I ask tentatively. "Will it be possible to meet you at your residence, Sir? I have to discuss a particular matter." I say it without any implications, as if i mean what I say. Crouch stares at me. I am at the doorframe. He thinks and smiles nervously. "Sure, whenever you can."

I come out, with a wide grin on her face. I congratulate her. "You are like the spy at the Ministry I never had, Bertha!"

"Lucius Malfoy"

"He doesn't know I exist."

"Augustus R-"

"Rookwood? He is at Azkaban, if I remember correctly."

"Oh, just shut up."

"Hey, I know you want Crouch to get a deserving hit, my dear-"

"Do you get it? I dont care anymore. I am not upto holding secrets. Crouch knew that, and he hid those memories of his son for that reason. I am not cut out to holding the Dark Lord within me. I am just aiding you so that you leave me as you promised when you got a body. That is all, okay? No more bargaining, no more compromises. You get your body, i get mine. And then we live happily ever after, without coming within a thousand miles close to each other. Get it?"

As I said, I know my cue to respond.

* * *

Victor Krum was practicing. "Again!" He shouted. He was absolutely sure that fighting against Ireland would have a clean match, as the Irish had never cheated in their past games. He wasn't sure about how his chasers were going to play against the trio that the Irish had. They were too good. He had to win the game with the snitch, that was for sure. But unlike classic games, this was to be played in a wider construct, with a modified lighting. He was used to playing in daylight, and this game was scheduled in the evening, so it might get darker with the referees making it a practice to come late.

The site was distant, and his team had to take a portkey to get to the site. They all now had Firebolts, thanks to the Headmaster. He snatched the snitch, and called out for Dmitri to pack up. As they left the site, he kissed his mother goodbye, and she called out to him as he went. "Be confident, Victor. You are the one to catch the snitch. I can just feel it."

His father waved. He left to the site of the portkey. His parents would come later via a different portkey. He left, Dmitri patting him in the back with appreciation for his last catch.

On entering the stadium, he was shocked. It was surely larger than his previous calculations, and the stands were made circular too, minimising the area required for most feinting techniques. The stands bound the ground, and it was not even stepped. So it was modelled like a cylindrical structure, with goalposts ending at bronze gongs, to maximise the sounds of scoring.

"The Irish came earlier." said a cheerful blond man. "Ludo Bagman. Nice to meet you!" He said in English. Victor just nodded, and shook hands. He was not interested in conversations right now, so he called Levski to help him unpack. Levski obliged, and with Bagman showing them their tent, they soon went there and took a bit of a rest. The tent had a smell of jasmines. Krum resumed his frown. He wasn't so fond of flowers. He asked for the way to the restroom, and after a few minutes, he returned to find the room full.

"Ah, the captain of the team." "Minister!" "Yes my boy." nodded the Bulgarian Prime Minister. He then pointed at the short stature man in the side, who was looking apprehensive as the conversation was in fluent Bulgarian. "This is Cornelius Fudge, the British Minister of Magic." "We were informed of your arrival some time ago, and seeing that the National team of Ireland had already come to their spots yesterday, we came for a check in." said the other Attender, whose name was not told to Victor. "Ludo Bagman entered the room, and Fudge called out "Hey Ludo, I am glad you arrived. I can't understand a word they speak. Is Barty around?"

Victor asked "Minister, do you not know their language?" "M'boy, it is hilarious. Their minister tries gestures of the sort you wil never dream of. Watch this. " He asked "Who am I" in their general direction, and soon, the Minister was explaining the comforts of the tent. Victor hid his smile. The Bulgarian Prime minister was well known for his jovial attitude towards everyone, and this was the second time he saw him. The minister left soon, chattering animatedly to Fudge, who was looking helpless.

Bagman motioned toward Victor. "You have every facility available here, master Krum. Ask for anything, and the house elves shall bring it in. Just call it into the air." By the way, what was your Minister asking Cornelius...?" He trailed off, as Krum was giving no interest to his words, and was just moving towards the window.

Krum saw the green robes, which steeped the pathway, as they entered the stadium. He ran out, as they passed and started mounting their peered in.

They were good.

* * *

 **The Night before the World Cup finale**

Harry couldn't sleep. The excitement for the match between Ireland and Bulgaria was not allowing him to enter the embrace of sleep. Tomorrow they will be leaving for the campsite, and would be having the same portkey as the Diggories and another family named the Lovegoods who lived nearby.

He rolled over, and it was hours before he started sleeping.

The wake up call, was startling, as a pillow hit him over and he woke up with a start. Hermione proceeded to hit Ron, who had a thumb in his mouth. As he woke up, he bit his tongue, and screamed.

Molly thundered up the stairs, only to find a crying ron smiling hat her with a "Good morning, mom!"

Fred and George had gotten a new friend and experimental subject in Hermione. She had been impressed with the letter of appreciation from the Headmaster of Hogwarts(with their abysmal grades). She saw a mention of Dumbledore's fear being Molly finding out this letter, and thought of it as an absurd joke, until she saw the ferocity with which Molly checked out the pockets of Fred and George. She suspected them to be trying to sell their sweets and contraptions in the wide world. They did not carry any in their pockets, leaving Molly disappointed. She thought of incinerating their entire stock. They looked at her with a purely innocent smile, and then glanced at Hermione, who nodded. A pouch protected with an Anti-Summoning charm, in Hermione's hand, went unnoticed.

As they waved their goodbyes to Molly, a just-woken up , Hermione asked why Molly didn't come. Molly just gave a smile, and said that she never was interested in it. After they got a little past a mile, Fred came back up with the topic. "She did, you know, like Quidditch much once. It was before a... slight mishap happened, you know, with Dad, at one of their dates. He-" "Hey, telling our story, are you, huh? Go on, along. Ah, Hermione, it was actually at Hogwarts, where we thought of skipping a match, I was keeper back then, for Gryffindor. Well, things got fast, and the idiot beater, you see, we don't know if he did it on purpose, but then that Puff just shot that Bludgers out of nowhere, and it hit her on the face. Just as, we were.. er... getting .. our lips working." He stared at Hermione.

"I didn't need to hear that, ." She gave an embarrassed look.

"Oh so that's the story! I never would have got that out of the twins even after a lifelong of begging. Thanks Dad!"

"Ginny, don't let Molly know that I slipped it out. She doesn't even know that the twins know it."

"Who was the Puff, Dad? Tell us."

Arthur abruptly stopped, staring ahead." I believe that's the one." Amos Diggory was walking towards him, with his son, Cedric. Arthur just hid his previous expression, and welcomed Amos.

"Too far, ain't it, Artie? I believe the location was placed so far for the Lovegoods. Those at the transportation office make these sites equidistant from the houses in question, but they overlook the obvious things. Old Xeno already was at the campsite a week ago. Forced us to walk the distance, those equidistant freaks!"

"Hello, Amos. When is the portkey scheduled?"

"Lemme see. Forty four seconds and ticking! Grab it, folks."

They held the shoe. Harry started with "What do portkeys.." and he felt a jerk behind his navel, and the next instant found him lying spread eagled on the ground. "Do you need a hand, Harry?" asked Cedric as he pulled him to his feet. "Ma son, always the gentleman." exclaimed Amos Diggory, as he went over to the checklist that the ministry wizards on the side were holding, asking them to mark both the Weasleys and the Diggorys.

Arthur frowned, and squinted at a man just within range of sight. Upon seeing his clothes, he beamed. "Muggles!" And started a jog.

"Hullo! I am Arthur. Arthur Weasley. Nice to meet you, Mr?"

"Roberts." Amos and Roberts both replied at the same time. stared at Mr. Diggory's attire, and paused.

There's folk like you over there. It looks like some kinda gathering, with you all campin around. There you go. Checked."

"Thank you, my dear mug.. man! Thanks for all the help you have done."

"Is he foreign?" he asked Hermione as Arthur fumbled at the sheaf of currency. "No, I'm not. Here. Take this."

"Thanks. Your campsite is over there. Do you want me to-" They had left, the twins dragging their father away from Mr Roberts.

* * *

The plan is simple. I get along with Bertha to the Crouch mansion, I possess my servant, and Bertha leaves. I pretend as a servant, with my resistance to the Imperius curse, and await Senior to come home to his death. She had vaguely remembered a house elf, but that was accounted for. The question was if I could get out of Bertha without causing her enough pain. I did not know if I had done enough damage with just sharing a part of the horcrux's powers with her.

I would liken the horcrux with an egg. It has the shell, the object, the so called Horcrux, and within it lies it's soul, the yolk. But you had to sustain it in a colloid substance, the white, for it to be perfectly stable. That was pure energy. It would sustain the soul within, and it shall aid it with power later on, when the horcrux was mature enough to 'hatch'.

The house elf will be sustained by Bertha, while I take over Barty Crouch, Junior. I just hope his years in Azkaban had not addled his brain so far. If it were so, I would have to take over the soul.

Take over, with all implications of the phrase.

* * *

 _He woke up. Yet again. His periods of awakening had come more frequently, or so he felt. As his ration for the day hovered outside, he was truely surprised at the visitor. "Oh, my, how much have you changed!" His tone implied the humour of the moment, which was just a repeat of what the man in front had said after his dearest was lost. Lost forever to the greatest adventure, and more._

 _Actually, the 'dearest' part was only after he had managed to take it away. He smirked. The man was obviously irritated, and he knew it was in his nature to see the past, multiple times, and then make his decisions. He was wise, there was no doubt to that. The prisoner showed a long pointed nail at the man. He frowned, as the man wandlessly converted the nail to a blade. The visitor's hands were trickling down his sleeve, in need of the stolen wand. The prisoner smirked, and shaved off his beard with the knife, leaving a short tip just in front of his mental symphysis. He took some water off the tub near him, and washed his face. He next trimmed his moustache with his fingers, as they but down the greying bits, without even feeling the need to transform into scissors visually for the function. They did their work, and that was enough. "You have always asked me that question when you saw me. 'Who killed her'." The prisoner grinned, turning back to face him, with a change in his stride. "You had feared meeting me for so long, one would have thought you, afraid. Using memory charms was never your style, Albus."_

 _With the lack of expression on Dumbledore's face, the prisoner continued." I ask you the same question, back again. "Who. Did. It?" He smiled, expecting the outrage he would receive._

 _He got none. Instead, with a cheerful chuckle from his opponent, Gellert's face fell in misery, as he realised what Dumbledore had procured. The only way to bring her back._

 _The answer. Dumbledore had the stone._

* * *

Fleur Delacour was not having plans on watching someone play the Triwizard tournament. She was going to make everyone see her do it. And win it. She had been the first in her studies, and had gotten through every single torment that came at her, calling themselves boyfriends. They were never up to the mark, and had only fallen over on her beauty. She was looking up, as the class in Arithmancy began. She solved the first problem put up by the old ghost. She had heard that there was only one another ghost that taught a class in the entire world. She looked forward to the month of December, when the Triwizard tournament was scheduled to be started off with the Yule Ball soon enough.

* * *

The tent smelled of cats. Too much of cats. Harry was amazed at the size of the tent, and took to the one facing the corner. Though had insisted on doing everything the 'Muggle' way, Bill and Charlie used simple incendiary charms for the fire. They then started to stress upon how they had done it the usual way, and they had the support of the twins.

Resigned, was going on, chatting with Mr. Crouch, Mr. Bagman and somebody else, while introducing them to his family and Harry.

Hermione had gone to fetch some water out of a nearby tap, as Obliviators had started their rounds, telling off the families that did not mind the secrecy that they were supposed to maintain. After a glance at the queue, she just walked closer, bypassing the line, to the other side, toward the side of the lavatories. After finding a space between the stands and the border of the campsite, she filled her bucket with an Aguamenti, a sixth year spell as per the old rules, and started to make her way back to the tent. She spotted Luna Lovegood at an odd looking tent, with a man with similar hair who seemed to be her father. She avoided her glance, and Luna had fortunately minded her own business, poking the grass with a stick tied to the end of her wand.

Harry called Hermione over, and she caught a bit of the conversation that followed. "Barty, you were needed yesterday. Where were you, huh? That Bulgarian minister was not getting a word that we spoke-" "I was under the impression that he was fluent in many languages. We never actually talked in English, but one might think a man at such a position would know..."

"He didn't. That's what I said. We tried out many gestures and got him to understand, but nothing he spoke was legible, you know what I mean."

"Oh, Hermione," said Arthur. "Just go to the stands and buy some of whatever you want. Harry, I think Bill had your gold. He took it out himself, because there were too many transactions at the moment. We have an important matter to discuss."

As they turned, Arthur passed on a galleon to Harry, and said "Just give this to Ron, will you? Thanks."

"What do you think they are going to discuss, mmm?

"Siri-Snuffles mentioned something about the Triwizard tournament being scheduled for the year"

"Ooh, really? That sounds cool. At least we won't have the boring Quidditch matches-" she broke off, while Harry just pretended she hadn't said that. "So what do they do in it, huh?" "I don't know, Harry. There are supposed to be three tasks, each one more difficult than its predecessor. The final task will be something that will end once the champion touches the Triwizard Cup. That player gets a thousand Galleons and eternal glory." She said the 'eternal glory' part as if she was a narrator of some high fantasy storyline. Harry laughed, and they went along, calling Ron from their campfire, while he was holding a bar of Chocolate. "I don't know how muggles eat chocolate like this. It is hard to see why they would make something as fun as a chocolate into such a... boring form. Seriously, squares and rectangles? Please."

Harry spotted the sellers, with an assortment of various contraptions, all of which were eye catching. He realised he had forgotten about the bag of money, and hastily went back to their tent to find Bill. While he returned, he spotted Oliver Wood, who had graduated from Hogwarts and had been welcomed warmly into some famous Quidditch team. Harry and Wood discussed the semi final match. The Feinting techniques of Krum were so awesome, you cannot stop talking about them with any man who knew his Quidditch.

Harry walked off, telling Wood that Ron would be waiting for him. As he went forward, he heard some shouting. After crossing a shrub, he found them. And the source of the commotion.

Draco Malfoy.

* * *

Lucius had never expected any greater insult to power than the proof in front of him. Arthur Weasley. With his family. In the TopBox, with the VIPs. He stared, and got a venomously cheerful smile from the weasel. He just turned his head. He had noticed that the younger son was absent.

He looked at his side. Narcissa was yet to come. With Draco. They had gone to the camp site where Cissa had called Severus, who had contacted her for a brief session with Draco. There was no reason, but Severus had only gotten a seat on the second class. He had asked specifically for it. He had claimed that a good match would have a treat to his eyes, after so many stupid matches at Hogwarts. Severus had experience as an appreciator for Quidditch, taking the post of Quidditch referee whenever the person, who Lucius remembered as a woman, no more, at Hogwarts was unable to fulfill her duties. He saw Severus' mop of greasy hair on another side, taking his seat. Lucius waved, and gestured 'where?' Severus replied with a frown and a look around, and then chose to come to the back of the stands, where a circular looping construct had been structured, to ascend from level to level. Lucius stood, and entered, as Severus billowed upwards towards him. "They left when I did." He gave a questioning frown. "I do not know-" he trailed, as Harry Potter and the Granger girl ran up and suddenly stopped, and stood in front of the professor. "Oh, Sir!" The girl said, while Potter caught his breath. They just stepped to the side, and entered the Box. Severus looked through the bend, and exclaimed "I believe Draco has some explaining to do."

Narcissa came along the planks, holding Draco by the hand, while the youngest son of the weasel came through, holding a bag. Narcissa cut short whatever Severus was going to ask, and just told "The match is about to start. The displays of their mascots would be beginning. Why are you standing out, come in, now." And she just went in. Lucius shrugged at Severus, and entered the Box.

* * *

"You had the bag!" "No I didn't, it was Ron." "No, it was you, I saw you pick the bag up when Ron fell on Malfo- Whoa... wow. What?!" The fireworks started, and Charlie had thumped him on the head to stay quiet. The cabin was staring at him now. Everyone's gaze went back to the fireworks, which came up with rolling Dragons, and fire breathing goats. Harry looked up at them, and he heard a shuffle to the row on his right. He turned, and saw Ron getting into his seat, and say "Got the bag."

Actially, they had run into Malfoy at the stores. He had been late enough when he came, and they had started thumping Malfoy while he screamed. He later learned that Malfoy had just been trying to pull out a hat from a rack, while he saw Hermione come through. As soon as she entered, he had been caught with a not-so-wise crack about her blood, and it had been by then that Ron had kicked him at the knee from the back. His mother had screamed, and Ron and Malfoy had been forcibly 'evacuated' from the store, while Hermione bought the thing she for all three of them. As soon as she came out, Malfoy had sweared into her face and that earned him another kick, now to the back, as another Ron v Malfoy match started. Harry had seen this, and tried to intervene, resulting with Ron getting a punch to the face while Harry pulled him away. Ron had shaken him off, and as he entered the fray, only to be stunned by a ministry employee with a comic female costume. The man took them all under custody, and told them off. It was good that the match was about to start in a few minutes. The man was prompted to let them as he himself had to catch the match. They all had ran up, and Ron had remembered the bag.

"You see, it is with extreme precision that you kick the opponent. I knew that if I hurt his face, he would have bled, and I would have been in a sticky situation, wouldn't I? Not that I would have wanted Malfoy blood in my hands, it's too pure to handle." Ron bragged, while Malfoy glanced venomously. He would have bit them if he weren't held by his Mother's hand. The fireworks ended, and galleons that had floated at first, had flooded the entire box, dousing them all with Gold.

The Bulgarian team had brought in Veela, by which they meant extremely beautiful women. Beautiful, as in you would plan on dying to make one your bride. Harry leaned over on the seat, as did so many others. The Veela looked up at the top boxes, and Harry thought about how he could just fall over the railing, fly in circles around her, and in the end, float down the sky, while his wings folded elegantly, his lips upon hers...

He then was thrown on the seat, which was soft, and felt a slap on his cheek, which was looked at him, and slapped again. "What! Cut it out 'Mione!" He realised his wings didn't fold elegantly. And that he didn't have wings. He was suddenly afraid of the height.

"Who the heck is drooling over us? Idiots! Top box, we ain't sitting below ye for ye to spit on us! Show some respect, you... !"

The funniest part was that Fudge was wiping off his mouth, with a creeping blush on his face.

And then the players came.

* * *

 **...**


	5. A Game, a Failure and an Attack

**Chapter 5: A Game, A Failure and an Attack**

Severus Snape tore past the stairs. The match was about to start, and he had to get to his seat. He went past people who were arching over to get a glimpse at the Veela. Severus had had no inclination towards their beauty. He already had a prefixed definition of beauty, and he had also seen it, had it to his own, and then lost it. He hated the words that separated her from him. Each single word uttered by him, causing him no harm when saying, but killing him in each following second .

He was amused at Mostafa's appearance at the World Cup. He had been an old associate of his mother, being one of the older friends that still respected her after his father, Tobias had married her. He was short, and balding. He had had short hair when Snape had met him, but he was not of much talent. He was merely called for the position of referee due to him being a veteran keeper for the Egyptian national team of magical carpets, and while they had been banned, he had generously given Severus one of his own after Eileen's death.

As the match started, Severus got bored. The Bulgarian team was not posing much of a challenge. Their chasers were decent, but the keeper was like a Longbottom. He lacked the ability to appreciate the delicate nature of the Quaffle, and his swings were wild. Any feinting trick would surely throw him off balance. The beaters were good, but their wild swings were more fuelled by rage and not by aim or intention. He had never had the eye for the seeker, whose function was just to end the game while managing the scores. The managing scores part was of no use here. They did not have to lead by points to cross any qualifiers. This was aptly named the Finals, and final its result would be.

Severus had long had interest in Quidditch, but it was more in the beauty of the game, rather than the fun. It was a beautiful game that made it fun. He watched as Lynch stooped low, while Mostafa had a look at the Veela. He succumbed, and in minutes he was ordering the penalty that rose to approval and irritation, judging by the varied growls nearby. He watched through as the Veela (he hadn't bothered, but he wondered whether their name would be Veelae in the plural, or if Veela was both singular and plural) had an uproar, their flames roasting the air surrounding them. The pesky leprechauns, which were classified under sentient beings, by the ministry, were now showing their response to the Veela as well.

Krum performed his signature move. The Wronski Feint. How predictable. But still, the idiot Adrian Lynch fell for it, and within minutes, Krum caught the snitch, his signature frown on his face. The game was lost, but the snitch was won. Severus wondered how many people had bet their coins on such an unlikely possibility, but as Ludo Bagman announced the results, the teams shook hands, and Severus went off, leaving the site almost immediately. He did not want to stay with people, and with his reputation for being antisocial, he doubted people would want to be near him.

* * *

Harry stood. His legs were numb. He had been resting his elbows on them, and after the match ended, he felt a creep down his legs. He turned back,to the row behind, and saw Dobby. "Hey Dobby!" He glanced sideways, where Lucius Malfoy glimpsed momentarily at them, and turned back to Fudge. "I is not Dobby, Sir! But I know you Sir! You is Harry Potter! I is Winky. I have heard a lot about you from Dobby."

"Oh, How is he? And who is your master?" "Master Crouch, sir! He was not able to come today for the match though sir." She pointed at the seat next to her. "I saw him in the afternoon here. Why couldn't he come?" Asked Hermione, frowning at the elf. "He had some private business, miss. Winky is a good elf. I does not bother master."

Ron called them from the entrance to the Box, and they waved their byes to Winky, who seemed almost relieved at their leaving.

Harry went down the slopes, preferring the downhill effect rather than the stairs. As he descended, he saw Lucius Malfoy. The man was discussing something with a woman who mightily looked like the pug faced Pansy Parkinson. In a minute, Harry got out via the main entrance, where he bumped into Victor Krum, while he was speaking with the Bulgarian Prime minister. The minister caught Harry, and smiled, "Watch your step, son." Cornelius Fudge looked like someone had struck him with a red hot poker in the back. "YOU KNEW ENGLISH! Why I ..?" Krum sniggered, hiding it, while he saw the scar. "Are you the Harry Potter? Wow. It is nice to meet you in person. I had actually hoped... You study at Hogwarts, don't you?" "Yeah, um, could you, could you sign me an autograph? It is for a friend." "Sure." Harry looked sideways, and stocked a tongue out at Draco, coming down looking like a peacock, holding his head high. Draco sneered, and looked at Krum. His face showed spite and rage, mixed with envy, as he followed the track of the leaving. Harry enthusiastically said a "Thanks, your Wronski feint was amazing. I hoped you win." Krum smiled sadly. "I hoped so too. It seems the Irish were better at playing. It was a good match."

He grimaced as a group of reporters surrounded him and took pictures of him with Harry. Harry escaped halfway, and then the press swarmed entirely around Krum, asking for his opinion on the game.

* * *

I hate such a failure. The mission had failed. I had hopes of leaving the body of the woman once and for all, and once I enter the household, I realise that there was nobody home. It meant Crouch had taken his son, and his house elf to the match. I swear heavily, Bertha chiding me. I give her a taste of my anger, and she is silenced. She seemed more compatible with my soul, rather than Quirinus, who had had to be given doses of subordinance to be kept under control.

I had left her body for a few minutes to search for Barty but my search had been in vain. The only advantage that Bertha enjoyed was a few minutes of having her soul to herself. The family library had instigated my interest, and I lead her into it. I needed her, as being a spirit had its disadvantages, as with me being not able to instill pressure on anything composed of matter. I had to employ extremely taxing manoeuvres to turn even a page of a book. Bertha gasps as I enter her without preamble. Her fingers let out smoke and she explains I come with an uncomfortable warmth. I do not care. I open up some books, until an old book garners my interest. It was another copy of the old time I had, which had been my old plan of action in case horcruxes failed. It reminds me of the ritual that enables a person to resurrect a dead man. It delivered the instructions too, which I had burned to my hippocampus when I was a mere youth.

 _The father's bone,_

 _the servant's nerve,_

 _the enemy's fluid of the vessel,_

 _and the master's fluid of the spine_

 _shall give thee back the master_

 _whom thy loyalty never lefteth_

 _\- 15th century poetic rendition of the older ceremony. Lord Vericimilitude, who named himself anew after his rebirth_

 _THY interests shalt be sparked by such primitive means of resurrection, for they delivered what they promised. In practice, the boiling of the above mentioned ingredients, had to be done when there is high concentration of aqueous dispensation or high humidity in the air, in an open landscape, preferable with freshly dug bones, and uncoagulated blood. This required the substance of the servant, who had to be truely loyal to his master, to draw his master, from the embraces of Thanatos, to the mortal world. The bone contains the essence of heredity, while the enemy gives spite and vengeance, aiding the master, whose death had given the enemy more time to live, and servant's flesh, implied as nerve in the above account,_

 _According to Geranius, the potion shall have to be simmered in the rocks of the father's tombstone, while modern renditions have been less than fruitful. The spinal fluid of the master is difficult to obtain, and can be inexplicably dangerous in the hands of anybody except a true servant. Geranius himself entered the cauldron at his town square, with the village watching,the cauldron made accidentally out of Gold instead of silver. (Silver represents humility, that has been offered to death for clutching His prey for the servant's own loyalty) Geranius emerged out, in his youth and proclaimed his return from even the hands of senility. His measures were to general embarrassment, since he had emerged in his nude image, a visual inscribed into every eye that saw the event, and as to the general turning back of heads Geranius resigned himself to his quarters, without coming out, his final observations written out in his last book on the topic "in secreto et occulto eventus senectutis" after which his youth was wasted in his own self exile and further life in fear of Death, whom he had offended by the Golden Cauldron. It is said that_ _he was not claimed by death until his 105th age in the newly regenerated body, while in the embrace of a Roman wife, by historians, this event had left a black mark in history for significant proof that not only the dead, but even the living could be 'resurrected' however ironic it may sound._

 _Included in the Auctioner's edition_

 _Appendix 493:The standard healer's note on lumbar drainage of Liquor Cerebrospinalis,_

 _Appendix 211: How to cope up with Public embarrassment, and psychological guidance to accept old age._

 _Appendix 483: The Potionmaker's cut on the Resurrection ritual/Youth replenishment ritual and it's clinical applications in modern medicine_

I turn pages, going on the the page of the potion. Appendix 440. 478. 484, and 483. I go through, scanning the pages for some out of the line ingredient. There were none of the sort, and I laugh.

I laugh a laugh of mirth, of happiness, and thought of all I had to endure to end up with a new body, for the self mutilated soul within.

* * *

Arthur had been walking back to his tent, after a slight drink with his older colleagues, from school. They drank nothing alcoholic, but he was still feeling a bit intoxicated. He looked at his tent, and turned back, to see Bode calling him. The man was not so talkative usually, and Arthur waved. Bode ran at him, and slapped him. "Arthur! Look there. Some tents are on fire in the southern end! Come on!" "Might've been forest fire."

"The forest is more to the northwest. I spotted some masks!"

"What!" Arthur shook, as if awake, and leaped back onwards his tent. He shouted in "Evacuate now! Come out. All of you, or you will be dragged out. Do not stay near these areas. Go to the northern end of the campsite. I give permission, use 'point me' for finding directions. Try to be safe, Bill, come with me. Charlie, take them all to anywhere safe, don't exit the area, there will most likely be a head count after they..." he shuddered. "And Ron, WAKE UP, damnit!"

He rushed out, with Bode calling him. They went toward the site, and they saw them.

They reminded everyone of the war. They walked on, their black cloaks sweeping the ground. They had taken some people, Muggles, Arthur assumed, and levitated them in the air. The levitated ones were eerily quiet, and as one of them moved, he saw a orange flash, as the person was blasted in front of the mob and writhed, in terrible pain, and shook to a still form.

This was not to be tolerated. Arthur ran, and cast a Blasting curse, the 'Reducto', when he felt multiple others on his front do the same. They were pushed apart, and five of six had been hit ten enough to have concussions, while the remaining fought with simpler hexes. No Unforgivables were cast, and Arthur started levitating the Muggles out of the way. He saw , and after covering their unmoving, but alive, bodies to a disillusioned corner, he got to the figure that had writhed after the Death Eater's curse. The girl was heavily bleeding. He realised that these men were refraining from the Unforgivables so that they can escape charges in any case. On seeing the girl's blood, Arthur felt his hand and tense. He sent a patronus to the stalls, to prepare a free space meters wide. He then cast an unauthorised 'Portus' on a broken branch of wood, and threw it on the bodies, and dragged the body of the Muggle girl along.

Asking Bode and Mafalda to take care of the situation, and touched the portkey, as he went to the stalls with the muggles. Charlie rushed towards him, just as everyone came out of their shops. As they clapped for him saving the innocents, He heard the sound of a muggle man screaming at a laughing balloon on the party shop, while Rita Skeeter grinned at her new scoop.

* * *

Harry and Hermione, as usual, got separated from the main group. They wandered the forest, and while Harry forgot his wand's absence. He hadn't noted it since before the match, but he insisted that he had attempted to pull it out on Malfoy when he had irritated them. So it must have been after the match. As Hermione told him that wands were almost never reclaimed, after they were lost, and that he would have to go for a new one.

Their separation was partly because of this argument. They tried to use another pointing spell, but Harry insisted that they had been going too much northwest, and were now supposed to go eastwards, while Hermione disagreed. They went on, to find that they had been going in more of an eastern direction, and saw a large burnt out wastelands with smoldering and pieces of wood. Hermione tugged at his hand, saying"Lets go, Harry, we should not be here. Harry spotted something moving n the distance, and saw a pair on glowing eyes, but then he saw something else being pulled by it, and when he reached it, it was invisible.

He spotted a man in the distance. He moved south, in the direction of the attackers. He limped slightly, and Harry thought he had imagined the 'master!' whimper from behind. He crept. Up, in the direction of the man. The man stopped when he saw the mob in the distance. He screamed at them "Did you really, huh? Never! You never go for the pain, do you? Everything has a price, people. Where were you? See what loyalty means, and repent." He turned his back at them, and the darkness of the night hid his face from Harry.

"MORSMORDRE!"

Harry blacked out, the image burned in his retina, while he felt a slight pat in his chest as the fleeing man dropped the wand on the nearest body he felt in the ground, and with a crack, his leg broke ta the knee, as the man stumbled on his leg.

* * *

 _Terror at Quidditch Cup, Junior ministry employee makes attempt at breaking Statute_

 _-Skeeter_

 _The 1994 Quidditch World Cup match was tormented by destructive forces, and the Dark mark had been left glowing. Ministry officials took care of the situation, and order had been restored. The amusing phenomenon of the night was with one Artie Weasley, who brought a few muggles to a magical area, with an unauthorised portkey. He has been fined 500 galleons, and the full story has been relayed on page 15..._

* * *

 **...**


	6. A Death and an Unrelated aftermath

**Chapter 6: A Death, and An Unrelated Aftermath**

It was absurd. Why would Crouch, a man who cared about his reputation more than matching his socks, would bring back his son, convicted of being a Death Eater, to an event as wild and unpredictable as the Quidditch World Cup? Or was he hiding his son, somewhere else, at a safe house, after the incident with Bertha? Or was Fate just messing with Lord Voldemort? It had never stopped hitting his face since the incident at the Potter's household. Had he looked into a broken mirror?

We left the library a lot later than we had originally planned. I looked up into old trial records, after my supposed death. It was curious Crouch kept them, of all people in the ministry. I had remained calm when I found the treachery of Severus. Igor. Lucius. As if I make servants under the Imperius. You don't bow to a master under force or command. You accept them, you realise the power their patronage vests in you. Betraying it would never do good, even if it benefits you. They will get their punishment, and I do not care about them.

The Lestranges had been faithful, though. They, along with Barty, had not pleaded for pardon, but they were fools. I appreciate courage, but not in facing sure doom. They need not have proclaimed my name in front of the ministry, and they need not have tortured people for information. Never has torturing leaked information. The knowledge that they would be tortured might, but never the procedure itself. And the Longbottoms were not deserving of their fate. No human deserved that. I know Bellatrix might be a little interested in such trivial sadism, but she had always been a bit mad. The son of Crouch might be an ally, but if he had been a member of the group that -

"They don't deserve to live." "Bertha?" "They tortured the Longbottoms. You were not alive that day, but I have seen them in . They are mere dolls, not functional, not even her child, a mere one year old-" she sobs, her throat stuck. I console her. "They didn't recognise him. They-" I couldn't say anything. My actions toward my nation had resulted in collateral damage, but never had I... I had. I have tortured people. It never bothered me until hearing this from... I have never worried about deaths, unless they have been Purebloods, who had wasted before me. I had killed so many, wounded so many. I had been a Wraith, killing needlessly.

As we leave the house, I see the clock ticking. The time was late, but it didn't matter. Crouch would not be coming back soon. It was his department that dealt with events of international importance.

"I knew Alice at school. She was more friends with Lily Potter than us three." She doesn't mention the names of her group of three, and I don't ask."The news of Lily's death would have devastated her. Lily, Mary, everyone we knew. You and the bastards that you had behind you. You all killed them. I hate you all. I don't want you to be in my body any more."

She tugs at my spirit. I am resilient, but I do not argue. I leave her body, as she breathes a sigh of relief..

The front gate opens. Bertha hides near the stairs and cast a Disillusionment charm on herself. I was transparent, and I look forth. Crouch was coming last, and in front of him was a House Elf who was pushing something in front of her, apparently suspended with an Invisibility cloak or charmed to be transparent. I look on, as Crouch removes the cloak, and the elf backs off. The sweating man was floating, and Crouch casts a 'Rennervate'. Junior was under some sort of freezing charm, and I see his face. Crouch looks at Him with such dislike, hatred. After an Imperius, the boy is forced to tell all his doings. I am surprised at the riot that the 'Death eaters' had put on in frenzy, and how Junior had been the Harbinger of his Lord's arrival. He says all this with a neutral expression. Crouch taps his foot on the ground thrice, and with anger, he shouts at his House elf, who was dismissed at the end of much pleading and some begging. Crouch displayed behaviour he had shown to the accused, and it seemed that he was going to shake off the elf that was tagging along his pants. He raised his wands at the crying elf. With a Cruciatus, he strikes at the elf, which hit the curtains, thrown back, writhing. "YOU MESS UP THE JOB! YOU. ARE. DISMISSED. GO AWAY THIS INSTANT, AND NEVER SHOW YOUR DAMNED FACE TO ME AGAIN! He stomped at the floor. Winky(That was the elf's name, it seemed) slumped to the floor, unconscious.

I feel the need for action, and as Bertha feels me entering her back again, I found her thinking the same.

We rose and cast the Stunning jinx on Crouch senior before he looked at us. I mean me. No, I mean Bertha. Oh this is confusing.

The imperious and the petrificus broke, as Junior scrambled around, picking up the wand of his father. "Who the hell are you? What the heck is happening? Where am I ? Winky?" He stared sideways and glanced at the elf, knocked out. "Bow, Bartemius. It is me." I say. He looks at me, and his eyes go wide. He bows down and kisses my feet, and Bertha goes back, disgusted. "Master, I have been searching for you. I was loyal, master. When all others left you, we few sought your presence everywhere. We couldn't find you master, nowhere. " "How did you come out of Azkaban." I leave the questioning part, and pose it as a statement.

"Master, my, this, idiot picked me out of the prison just because it was mamma's death wish. She wanted him to take care of me, and that-" he swears." - he took care of me alright." He grins. "You saved me master! We need to awaken the world to your magnificence!"

"What happened at the Longbottoms?" I ask quietly.

He beams and replies "We went there, milord, we were searching for you, and we heard those rumours of you dying. Augusta Longbottom, the old widow, was gone to meet old Dumbles, and we just tore down the wards. Without ol'granny, they didn't stand a chance. We saw only two of 'em, the others were sent to another safe spot usin' portkeys. Bella was furious and started torturing them all. Rabastan carved out Your name on the walls, and them tortured them. When I joined, they screamed out loud, and it was like music to me and Bella. Rabastan chickened out then, and Rodolphus was busy with announcin' the Dark mark. Then, those saviours of the ministry, the Order, as they call themselves-" he spat on the floor, " came in, along with the Aurors. We were outwanded, and they surrounded us and with a bit of fighting, they tied us all up, and gave us to those Dementors that came back to the ministry in your absence. Milord."

"Why did you feel the need to torture them."

He blinked. "Milord, we just. We wanted to know where... you were absent, and people were enjoying it... we couldn't..."

"That doesn't justify torture" "Hypocrite." Bertha comments in my mind.

"It gave us relief my lord. Their pain gave us happiness. We felt them squirming, writhing, AAHH!"

I tortured him. I tortured a man who had known the effects of the Cruciatus, who had been through pain for so long, that he should have known that inflicting it to others was not the thing to do. He screamed, his sounds splitting the air. I muffle his screams with an old spell of Severus, the 'Mufflato' and turn my head. I had wanted him to feel that pain. This was what ruled the Unforgivables. Intent. But now, I had felt my intent clearly. To rid the world of such vermin that doesn't deserve to be on this world.

I turn. I cast the curse. I leave the residence, with all markings pointing to Crouch as the stunner, and his father the victim, in case anybody else visited the house before Senior woke up. The Longbottoms and the rest of the world, were partly avenged, the death of Barty Crouch Junior being his mark of the new rise of Lord Voldemort.

Bertha doesn't complain to me being back in her for now. "I think I would need some coffee, Bertha."

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was in his room. He waited until Severus came back from the tournament, and reported the results. He had gotten a bit of an early sleep, while holding his mug of pumpkin juice. Fawkes trilled, and he found himself on the table, glasses lopsided, and with someone knocking on the doors.

"Come in." Severus came in, along with Filius and Rolanda . "What happened, did Ireland win?" He asked. The Quidditch coach nodded. "Ah, I anticipated that."

"Albus, we just wanted to ask for something regarding the exclusion of Quidditch from the year's activities. We had prepared for a different schedule for allowing students to play Quidditch in their free times. Matches can be cancelled, but sessions can be arranged for practice. I'm sure Severus will agree."

"Madam, I already made it clear in the notice that I put up that only the matches are cancelled but-" "-it had no mentions of the normal broom riding practice sessions in it, Sir. That is what Madam Hooch wanted to ask you."

"Let me see, ah... Sorry, my mistake, I shall send a corrected notice to the staff, Severus."

"Sir, the problem is that Minerva has already prepared a time table for every year. It has included extra classes for students till Yule for Ballroom Dancing instead of Quidditch sessions." said Filius. Severus snorted. "Ballroom Dancing? Seriously? "

"Madam Hooch, then lets arrange for the Quidditch sessions after the Yule ball. It would be better-" "What! Albus?" "-Severus, children need to know other skills too. You need to be a good dancer to properly get to know your lady." Dumbledore winked, and Snape winced.

"So be it. I don't care, unless she has put up those worthless Gryffindors with my Slytherins in Potions again. Double classes at that too."Flitwick opened his mouth. "I get it, Filius. She has done that too." he sighed. "Good night, Albus."

Albus looked at the ceiling as they left, one by one. He took his wand, rotating it in his hands. He placed it in its easily accessed compartment in his bed, and changed to his nightclothes, as the call form the fireplace came.

The World Cup campsite was under attack.

* * *

Harry woke up at the Burrow, his leg on a sling. He was back in Ron's room, as indicated by the foul smell of the ghoul.

He tried to take up his body to a sitting position, but found himself unable to. Ginny peered in, and called out for her mother. Ron came in instead. "Oh, you are awake! We were thinking of waking you up ourselves. How's the leg?"

"I can't feel it. What happened at the campsite?"

"Oh, dunno. I think dad would tell you, but don't ask when mom is around."

"Hey Harry." It was the twins. "Tell me Harry, do you believe in god?"

"Yeah. Why?"

" Dunno, just asked. It sounded cool in some of the movies that we saw using the change from paying the ticket for the campsite. And yeah, I said some movies. You were out sleeping for three days straight. Mom's been brewing sleeping draught and the numbing serum." " Honestly, I think she would be better off as Potions master rather than Snape." "Nope. Can't stand her at home, and you want her at school! You masochist!" "The pain is shared, Fred. The entire school experiences her, rather than just us." Harry sniggered.

"You wanna know what happened? We saw you weren't coming with us to the sales pitch. Ronny ran off, saying he will search for you. We followed. We saw you go into the burnt area, and go near some body, hiding behind some pole. We were just waiting, seeing that man, you were looking at him, Harry, and he screamed out at the mobs and cast out a spell that created the Dark Mark in the sky."

"What's the Dark Ma-" " T'was the symbol of You-Know-Who. The big green skull with the snake coiling out through the openings, you know, the eye sockets and the mouth." "It also had the lower jaw." Said Hermione, as she entered the room. "I said skull." "Yeah, the lower jaw is separate. Its not part of the skull. The skull has sutural joints, while the mandible-" "-leaving boring things aside, you slumped down right there, Harry. He threw the wand at you. We tried to catch him, but he just ran off, while the mob of Death Eaters-" "What! Death..?" " Eaters, right, yeah. They were, and it now seems _are_ YKW's followers. How is it, Forge, calling him OyKayDubbleYou?" He pronounced each syllable in a comical way, exaggerating the 'double' at the 'b'. "It is easier to say it as Lord Voldemort." Said Harry, and with a look at them, "Or Tom Riddle. It was his original name. Now can one of you make me sit up right, please? There's something behind me." Oh, it's your wand. It must have rolled down to the bed while you were flailing your hands in sleep. You were screaming when we brought you to the portkey site, you know.

"Did I say anything?" He asked, suddenly distracted. He was worried about his dreams in which he had been walking along with Cho Chang, describing the beauty of her face to her. He blushed. "Yeah, you were. Something in the lines of 'You deserved worse for what you did. A quarter of the debt paid.' In that creepy tone. You know, we don't believe you have been fully mentally addled, but you yourself give us proof so frequently in the affirmative."

Harry chuckled, just as entered. She shouted at them all to leave Harry alone in peace, and ushered them out despite his protests. Molly took off the bandages, out from under his feet to under the bed. Harry suddenly had a vague idea about who had put the bandages on him. "Two hours. Two hours I leave, and Arthur starts experimenting with these freaky muggle contraptions. She vanished them after piling them up on the ground, and looked at Harry. "Can I sit? Something's irritating my back. She helped him sit, or rather, he sat up by himself. The slings and bandages had been holding him down to the bed, tied up. He picked up his wand from behind.

"Ollivander said nice and supple, but this is too much for supple." It was slightly curved, fixed to his body's curvature. Molly told him to twist the ends alternatively, while she went off to bring him tea.

When's he returned, his wand was in no better shape. "Are you sure twisting will work?" "Oh, of course not Harry, I just kept you busy for a moment while I fetched my wand. They were making such a racket here, I simply had to come save you. You need some rest. I had to leave my chores-" With a tumble of vessels sounding downstairs, she looked out of the room and shouted into the staircase."You idiots! I am trying to work here! Could you just do NOTHING for a moment!"

She came back, and cast a 'Reparo' on his wand. Harry was about to ask if it worked, because it was one of the spells they had tried on Ron's wand back in their second year. The wand became horizontal again, and Harry enthusiastically said his thanks.

The tea was hot, and he was staring at the wall in front, as the beater of the Chudley cannons took a Quaffle to his head and promptly fell off his broom. Harry laughed at the absurdity, and scalded his finger on the tea cup. As he exclaimed an "Ah" , the ghoul above peered through the floorboards on the ceiling. They had an intense staring match, which Harry won, the floorboard creaked and the ghoul gave up.

Harry heard shouting downstairs and got up from bed. Molly was good. His leg had been fixed up perfectly, and now he felt as if it was ready to walk. He was at the doorway to Ron's room, when Bill came up.

"Don't go down for sometime, maybe till Dad leaves. He is a bit depressed. You see, the day those mobs attacked, Dad saved all the muggles that they were cursing, and used a portkey to take them all to the sales pitch which was safe then. But some of those muggles woke up and saw some magic, and although nobody was hurt, they charged Dad for breaking the statute. His name hit the papers, and Skeeter had her assistant click some pics, so Dad was stuck. They didn't even give him credit for saving them all." "What!" "Yeah, political manoeuvring, mostly by Malfoy. I suspect he was in that mob too. Anyways, Dad got into a bit of a sticky situation, and he had to take a loan from an old family friend." "Why? I have money, he could have asked me. I would have been more than ready to help you. You are all family, to me." " Harry, that's nice, but it I said uncomfortable to ask for money among friends. It feels like you are exploiting them. You wouldn't understand but-" " I don't care."

He climbed down the stairs. Even as he saw a face in the fireplace, he didn't care. "I'll pay for whatever it costs. How much ever you need. "Harry, listen." " No, I want to pay, I am part of your family, and every person in a family helps, . I don't want you to be indebted to some-"

"Hey I didn't ask for my money back. Arthur is too much of the gentleman, and he was trying to repay it. I have extreme loads of money, and nowhere to spend it. Chill, Harry!"

Harry turned at the fireplace. It was Sirius.

* * *

 **...**


	7. A Sweet and an Apology

**Chapter 7 : A Sweet, and an Apology**

* * *

I take a sip of my coffee. I don't have any plans. I say that to Bertha. She asks me if I thought myself as Batman. I reply in the negative, declaring my low knowledge on anybody of the hybrid sort. She describes him, and I decide I am as different as one could get from this 'Batman'.

"So, you have no plans. Not gonna go anywhere, not savin', not killin', not doin' anything worthwhile. Then why can't you get the heck out of my body!" I stay silent. I would feel the pain, but it does not matter. She knows that. She asks for a different reason. I have none.

We were at a muggle cafeteria, which was called a 'Cafe' in short. Why would they bother with shortening a name that is already short? And easy to pronounce?

"Can't you just wait in some muggle's body for some, maybe like a hundred years more till you are sure Dumbledore and Potter are dead, so you can start a new kingdom, or something? Why bother now, eh? You immortal, but they ain't, right?"

" I want to smear my victory on everybody's face, Bertha, and I can't _wait_." I could, but that would be admitting.

"Make a plan, then, or leave me alone. Isn't your pal Malfoy out in the open? You can get in him, or any of your old friends. Why be in me for so long?" "You are not bothered in any way be me, Bertha. I don't torture you, I don't let you die, and even my presence doesn't cause you pain. If it were some saint, you would have given them a good long stay, wouldn't you?"

We sipped more coffee.

"Do you think we would be able to get in Hogwarts for the Triwizard tournament? I need to find a way to get into Hogwarts for studying."

"I don't think that would be possible." She looked hopeful "Maybe I get to drop you off at the castle, maybe with some of Potter's friends. Don't kill anybody, it's just wrong, and-" "No, I wasn't thinking of killing Potter. It is just that his touch would kill the person in whom I reside." "Get in a girl. Maybe a seventh year. Try participating in the tournament too. Eternal glory, like that?"

I have another idea. I first tried entering Potter and feeling disgusted at his love for his friends, I left him. I would just need access to the castle.I can maybe enter Hogwarts within him too, but it would be taxing to convince him to help. I had killed his parents after all, and I know people can keep grudges. Bertha slaps me for thinking that. Ever heard of Privacy, ma'am? Privacy. I remember a private room.

I had one more of my Horcruxes in Hogwarts.

"What! You were this evil since school? Horcruxes while in school? Too bad, Tommy, too bad." " No, I made that one afterwards, with the Diadem of Ravenclaw herself." "And, am I supposed to be awed at that? I've heard the Cup of Hufflepuff was at some knockdown store in the Alley." "WHAT! It was another of my-" "horcruxes? I thought so. You are a seriously destructive oaf. Why choose such precious items? If somebody were to pick them up, worried about the objects of the great founders of Hogwarts, and you possess them. What a good guy!" I grin, showing my teeth to her. She turns out, disgusted. "So then, how did you get yourself into Hogwarts? I went for asking Dumbledore to take me in as a Professor in Defence." She laughs, and a waiter turns at her with a weird look. He hands over the bill.

She pays the bill, and exits the place. "Can we go buy the Puff cup please." "Ah, it ain't at the alley. It was auctioned off years ago, you see, to some family I don't know the name of." "Can we find it?" "Nah. I'm done helping you. You just sleep in me for a month or so. The opening ceremony for the tournament would be by Halloween, and the first task's been postponed, so we'll go there by Halloween. I'll let you free there, and we can mutually forget each other for convenience."

I pout, like a kid. Seriously, I was turning soft, maybe as an effect of the female self I had inhabited. I was sure that if Bella was my host, I would have now been a raging maniac. I shudder.

* * *

Hermione was checking her belongings. She had packed everything for school early on, but she had to confirm she wasn't missing anything in her bags.

Fred and George came over to her, and gave her a blue wrappered toffee. She looked up. "Antidote?" "Two halves. Red 1, green 2."

She chewed the red half. "What doesh thish do? Hummmm?" "Wait for it. Wait for it. Wai...t for i...t... " "2...1... now!" Hermione's field changed and she felt her head explode without pain. She was now seeing 200 images of the twins, and they sniggered. Then they backed off to two ends of the room. "See us! See us! See us!..." their voices echoed, and she could sense their excitement and their uncertainty in their voices. It was disconcerting at the first instant, but they then seemed more clearer, and more colourful. She felt as if she could now see everything, and she spotted something shiny on the tip of the collar of George's shirt, and she went to pick it up. She could sense it was George, from his being, his stature, everywhere. It was obvious.

Then they screamed." Argh, Hermione, just... eat this." She saw something like a fruit ripening in front of her eyes, and then swallowed the green segment hastily. "It needs to enter your stomach acid for action. Just wait."

She turned to her normal self. Fred (she just guessed now, the other twin was at the same location.) "Okay, how was it." He took his clipboard, and marked The Enhanced Bug Pug, and handed it to her.

"Painless. Check. Correctable. Am I totally normal? Then check. Time of action... I don't know how much. George?" "25 seconds for initiation, 8 for action." "Taste. Didn't notice but chewy. Not unpleasant. Effects. What was it actually supposed to do?" " Lemme see. Bug vision. Enhanced smelling. Depends on essence. We only intended for Dog saliva, but a bee had fallen into it while we were making the potion." Hermione swatted at him with the clipboard. So we now have 20 of these, from a single potion, all turning you into partial BugPugs. But longer effects ought to be studied under non compliant test subjects, most likely Smith. Mixing other species might yield good results, dunno." "I felt an echoing sound perception, boys." "That is unexpected." He marked it on the paper. "Antidote quantity is equal to chewable quantity. That would save costs. Working duration is 8 minutes. See here."

He showed photos from George's camera, whose flash was the sparkling thing on his collar. She saw herself normal, except in the last five photos, where here forehead had sprouted an antenna that was as long as her wand. He had taken side view shots too, and she saw slight markings of wings on her back. Her jaw was showing slight darkening in one picture.

She suggested "Omission of the Billywig limb and instead substituting the Boomslang skin, can make it a functional reversible analogue to the Polyjuice potion for animal transformations. This sounds cool, boys!". Just than, Harry peeked in from the corridor, and said "Is that English?" and went off without further comment. She rolled her eyes, and said "You can patent such things, and you just can be rolling in Galleons. This sounds quite safe, and cheap if the Boomslang skin is excluded. Anyways, exporting Billywigs is hard enough..."

* * *

"Why didn't I know that you were known here, Sirius, you moron. I had to hide letters from you, and send secret letters before going for the match." "Did you really Harry?" Asked . Harry turned from the fireplace, and smiled in embarrassment. "Cool, Harry, being James' son, that might just be an inherent sneakiness you possess." Said Sirius. Harry scowled at him.

"Mom, I need a new broom. I'm trying out for Quidditch trials this year." Ginny smirked at Harry. "For seeker. Hey Sirius!"

"No, dear, Quidditch has been cancelled for the year. No matches. Minerva has mentioned that in your letters. Look."

"WHAT! Why?" " It is a surprise, Ginevra. You'll get to know once you go to school. It is so exciting."

"Hey Ginny! It's because they are holding the Triwizard tournament this year. Woohoo! I spoiled the fun, Molly, Hahaha. Ok, bye Harry." Sirius stuck out his tongue at and muttered "Secrets" before cutting the connection.

Molly looked at them without expression. Ginny bared her teeth at her mother, and shouted "I'm gonna open 'Hogwarts, a History' Mom, and I think for the very first time!" She was running up the stairs, three steps per jump.

Molly sighed and went back to the kitchen, while Arthur called Harry close, and said. "Dumbledore told us all about Sirius. He thought Ron couldn't keep quiet, I suppose. And Harry, don't let Molly know, but I looked up the book for the same reason, so tell Ginny to open chapter 34, will you? Off you go!"

* * *

Crouch was sitting on the living room's floor. His legs were crossed. He looked up on his son's corpse. It was evident he had been hit with a Cruciatus, but not dead out of it. The oaf was his son. The one who let his reputation fall into the depths. His downfall. He thought of whatever his son had done, the Longbottoms, and kicked the corpse. He had dismissed Winky, but she was still here, stating that she was not to let her master fail by leaving him in a time of misery.

A killing curse had been cast in his own house. He had been stunned, but no ward was out of order, so he suspected the stunning charm was not used. Maybe his son, (whose cuffs were broken and lying on the ground when he woke up) might have done it, but he did not remember letting him out of the pertifying charm. It was all a mystery.

Winky brought him the bottle of Firewhisky he had requested her. He was impressed with the elf's behaviour. It was cruel. For such a man to fall to his knees, repenting. His wife's illness. His son's illusions towards the dark side. His neglect. His behaviour towards them. His fault. All was his fault. He held Winky, as he sobbed. Bartemius Crouch, the stoic man that sentenced his own son to the clutches to the dementors without a tear. He was crying over the son's corpse, not for the son. Crying for his own mistakes.

Winky consoled her master. There was nothing more for her to do.

* * *

 _Lightning struck the main tower. Thunder pierced his remembered the construction of the site. No crenellations were done on the highest tower. This was not a fortress. It was a prison. Gellert moaned. He was getting up. He stared out of the opening in the wall. This prison offered freedom to the prisoner. He could move anywhere within the prison. There were no trees 150 miles, in the circumference. No animal may enter the region. Pity was, it was all his own designing. Albus did not touch a single ward of his. He just put him inside this hell and left. He had shown that he was truly better than Gellert Grindelwald. Not a single charm of Albus was put on the prison, too._

 _His pride had been shattered, once Albus had shown him how the enemy can be utterly destroyed without a single piece of Dark magic. Hell, he did not even use a single Curse. Simple hexes and jinxes and charms under the hands of an Albus in rage had been enough to beat the self proclaimed Dark lord of the age. Oh, how he longed to see Albus, with his knuckles breaking the already broken nose of his._

 _He was being kept under the serum for Albus to gloat on. Had his old friend hoped he would become what Albus wanted, a Harbinger of the Light? His imprisonment only made him more focussed on revenge. Albus' mind could not comprehend such intricacies of human behaviour. You deprive someone of revenge, you get their revenge under their maximum rage._

 _Then why had Albus made him forget all memories of himself, only to be remembered under... What had triggered him? What had made him remember those memories?_

 _There were a lot of questions. And the only means of getting answers was to escape._

 _How long had he been in Nurmengard?_

* * *

Grimmauld place was purely the worst place one can be in. Your blood status doesn't matter, as Sirius ate three more pieces of meat, till he got full. Which he announced by partially chewing the next piece and spitting it on Sirius' slippers.

Pure blood families often had large mansions. The Black household was not so, thanks to his ancestor, Regulus Black the first, who had decided that the house can be extended with an undetectable extension charm, and sold out his old castle for a great sum. This house was close to the muggle entrance to the ministry, as per the man's claim, but it was long known that he had chosen the site for its close proximity to the Raging Snidget, the local wizarding pub, well known for serving the oldest wine in London.

Sirius glanced at the time, and called for Kreacher. The house elf of the Black family had but one goal. To have his head cut and mounted on the wall. Sirius asked him for a good lunch. He specified on what to cook, and the exact orders, so that Kraecher could not find loopholes to make him eat a pile of charcoal.

He had just finished calling Harry. His godson was waiting for the school year to start, much like he himself was when he was a student. Very much alike.

He went to the shelves of his bedroom. Picking up 'The Lord of the Rings' from there, he fell back on the bed. He had bought the omnibus, having all three books, along with 'The Hobbit'. The book was written by Tolkien in secret. He had been a muggle, but seeing the beasts of the magical world, and unobliviated, he built up on whatever he saw. He created an wonderful paradise, and even elves had been a superior race. He grinned, as he thought of the reaction of the general House elf population to this. After the book was written, he was summoned for a formal questioning at the ministry, where he claimed that he had made it sound totally like fiction. Being good friends with Dumbledore had left him with the memory, with which he wrote LotR.

He slept in a few minutes, not getting past the entry of the Dwarves into the hole. He needn't worry. He had an eternity of peace in this hell, till that scumbag Peter got caught.

* * *

 **How's the story? Next chapter... going to Hogwarts**

 **continuity: sorry folks, I posted chapter 6 before seeing that I accidentally did not save the last 8 paragraphs. It has been updated since then, and it has a major event, so please look into it. And where can I get a beta reader?**


	8. The Express

**Chapter 8 : The Express**

* * *

There was a rush at the station when they came. They had usually arrived at the station just 20 or so minutes before departure, but it seemed most wizarding families chose to be generously early.

"Did you hear the news? Barty's son, the one, you know, the follower of You-Know-Who, he was found to be alive. He had shown signs of being subjected to all three Unforgivables, you see, found dead, in his father's house. I suspect old Barty himself killed him. With all the dishonour he brought to his family...What are you staring at, boy?" "Nothing." Harry looked away from the pair of witches.

" Hey Harry!" It was the Patil twins. They were in different houses, and the elder one, Parvati, was in their own year, in Gryffindor. "Hey!" Unlike the Weasley twins, they were not identical, sparing people the confusion. He saw Draco Malfoy on another end. He quickly steered himself out of the direction, not wanting another quarrel.

He saw a gruff looking man pass through to the compartments in front. "That's Mad-Eye Moody." Hermione whispered into his ear. "He's an ex-Auror, one of the most ruthless. He caught countless followers of YKW-" "following the twins, are we?" "Oh, shut up. They're ingenius, really, they have good ideas, it's just their reputation as pranksters barring their way. Moody supposedly caught around half the Death Eaters in Azkaban. He is a good friend of Dumbledore." "Why do the professors come in the train? I've never seen the other professors in here. Except maybe Lupin..." "The heads of Hous are to be present at the school a month before the school starts. They are instead benefitted by extra paid holidays during the school year. It is given in 'Hogwarts, A History' ." "I knew you would answer my doubts, Hermione. That's why I don't read that book."

"Hey, Potter." Harry turned in dread as he heard the slow drawl. Malfoy never was a good sight. "You know, this year is gonna be different. There is going to be something, ah, special, and I'm gonna be part of it. Oh, I suppose you people don't know about it. Maybe, if you had known somebody, like maybe the Minister, you would..."

"Hey, I'm sorry, Malfoy, the Tournament has an age limit. Only students of age can participate. Oh, I don't know, maybe Crabbe or Goyle may participate. I think they have been here long before you came in, and will be here, most likely, after we all pass out school." Harry smirked, as Malfoy tried to maintain an inexpressive face.

Hermione called him from a distance. Harry had planned for such things. If Malfoy was calling, he would go, and with some sort of wisecrack, he will signal Hermione or Ron, who were a distance away, would call him for something urgent. He can't ignore Malfoy, not with Malfoy's every sentence spawning a new funny, witty and irresistible response within Harry.

"And in case you wonder where I got that news, it was in the Daily Prophet. You don't just need to be close to the Minister, but you need also be attentive to news, boy." Without waiting for a reply, he said " Coming, Hermione!" And went off.

He expected the moron to come back to gloat on nothing back in the train, but he planned on sitting with the twins as they had called him, Ron and their good friend Hermione to sit with them. They had something to show them all, and Hermione was seeming very excited about went off with some friends of her year, and Harry vaguely remembered them as Gryffindors whom he usually chased from the good couch in front of the fireplace.

Lee Jordan was handing over Trevor to Madam Longbottom, telling her to buy Neville some large noticeable pet. She showed no signs of listening. Lee shrugged and called Neville to his compartment. Neville waved a goodbye to his Grandmother and went in. She looked strict. Harry thought of Neville's boggart, with Snape inside that costume.

was busying herself ove the twins. "Don't try to enter the tournament. I beg of you. Just let the Cup choose its volunteers. Please, it is usually fatal, like wandering into an Acromantula colony-" "Cool!" they said in unison. "See you mom!" "Thank us if we win the tournament." " Thousand galleons, mom, and we are not prefects anyways!"

Hermione stopped them at the door of the compartment. She had been listening to the conversation, along with Harry. By peering through the window.

"How do you propose you get into the tournament?"

"Listen. This year's tournament is postponed, ain't it?"

"So, take this down. We were born in April, we'll come of age in the next year's April. If the Goblet chooses, it selects the person who is most suitable. We are sure that Hogwarts doesn't have anyone better than us."

" And the age restriction can be option A, around the Goblet, or option B, on the Goblet. The Goblet isn't the main deciding vote for age. It selected a second year student for battling a chimaera, remember-"

"-so if around it, an Age potion can solve it. " " Hey, it depends on who casts the charm for that. And if you think a simple Confundus can cheat the legendary Goblet of fire-"

"Wait. We never said about the Confundus-" "That was for Option B!" " How did you guess, huh, Hermione?"

"Anyways, understand that this would be our last chance, people. We are in Hogwarts for two more years, and we ain't gonna let one centennial event damage the reputation we-" "-need." "I was about to say 'deserve'." " I don't care."

They tried out the sweets next. Fred locked the door of the compartment with a complex wand motion. "Lo and behold, my friends. The Polyjuice for animals, version 14. Now contains newly upgraded ingredients, further planning, and miraculous design. We kept this one so secret, even our assistant get wind of this till V8. Who is gonna try?"

Harry raised his hand, Ron held Harry's hand down, and Harry raised it despite Ron's hand. "Harry Potter! You have been selected for the first sample. It has undergone all trials, and is finally ethically approved by the WWW. "

It was the motto of the twins, the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. They had to make the third letter W, so they used Wheezes. Otherwise it would have sounded better, but now they used it for most of their sweets. Their summer was mostly used for this sweet making purpose. After trial runs of most sweets at the Quidditch Cup campsite, they had come to exceedingly good results. First, their products had worked on non-Weasley humans too. That was their prime satisfaction. Secondly, they had threatened the victims to be quiet about their sweet eating experience. The prospect of the twins letting their underpants catch fire spontaneously was not a welcome thought.

"Chew the red half first. Then wait."

They all watched as Harry looked at them curiously, and then frowned. "Not him again." he said. They watched as nobody was near the room. Then, after some time, they saw Snape cross the corridor, without a glance at any compartment.

"The grease smells from a mile away."

"Why is he here? I thought you said the professors get to the school a month earlier...?"

"I don't know!" "Wow, hearing those words from you, Hermione, it's something that happens once in a blue moon." "Blue moon?" Asked Ron. As Hermione explains, Harry saw them all with awe. He was relishing the view, and had even taken off his glasses early on.

"Ooh, I smell Cinnamon. Somebody is coming this way." Harry tilted his head towards the glass panes that separated each segment from the corridor that connected compartments. He saw the lady who sold the sweets, and tailing along, was Cho Chang, a fifth year Ravenclaw, on whom he had had a crush since last year. She was in the opposing Quidditch team, and he had beaten her in the last year's match, with such a lead (To qualify for the next matches, they had to have a large head. Cumulative scores mattered in case of the early matches, and only in the final match were you not required to save the Snitch till the last moment.) that Cho had gone off crying, in embarrassment. That was the match in which Harry had first physically taught Malfoy a lesson, with his Patronus, and was not even punished for it, just because Malfoy was foolish enough to dress up as a Dementor.

As Cho crossed them, Harry absentmindedly took the antidote from Fred's hand and promptly stuck it to his cheek. He was so intently looking at Cho, that he did not notice the green half fall to the floor, and roll over to a corner in it's inertia. They all were laughing at him, but he didn't care. He was looking at her, his tongue dripping more saliva, (Enhanced with the BugPug) and was enjoying himself. Cho crossed them in seconds, and Harry was still staring at the panes.

George cast a summoning charm for the green segment, and stuffed it into Harry's mouth.

After a minute, Harry sat down, when Ron was laughing, tears of mirth flowing down his cheeks. "Mate, you have a serious problem." "No, Ron. It might have been the dog part of it. It can cause some effects altering the thinking capacity, but that is why the bee part is added. It gives an obeying command. We started off with a normal bee, but then proceeded with Queens, so it might have other effects. The transformation is restricted, so you don't change visually, and otherwise, Harry would have a tail by now."

Someone knocked at the door. It was the ex-Auror, Mad-Eye Moody. Fred removed the charm on the door, as Hermione whispered at him. He entered the room, and took the seat beside Ron."I am Alastor Moody. Call me Prof Mad-Eye. See this?" He pointed at his blue eye, which was focussing intently on the window."Hard to miss." muttered Ron, as he continued "No muttering. I am going to teach you folks Defense this year. I just saw some weird activity going on in here, so I decide to check. What has been happening in here? What's with the candy, huh? " His face make weird gestures, like a mix between a scowl and a smile, which just made him look more ugly.

The man assumed a calm demeanour, but his voice was so gruff, you can take it for a growl. "Nothing, Sir." Fred piped up "We were just testing out a new... sweet we got from a friend, and it turned out to be fun. Nothing interesting, just a foreign product, cheaper than Zonko's ." "Lemme try one."

"We ran out of them, Sir." "Sure Sir!" As George shook his head, Harry was passing the sweet to the professor. Harry was avoiding Fred's gaze pointedly. The Professor took the sweet, and muttered a continuous stream of " constant vigilance constant vigilance .." he then pocketed the sweet, and asked them about school. As they nodded very sincerely and told him of their previous defence teachers and the syllabus they covered, he just tapped his wooden foot on the floor. He had his entire attention to them, but his tapping was synchronised too. He then asked Harry to take out another of the sweet and asked Ron to eat it.

After a few minutes, the professor laughed. There was someone crossing the door yet again. "Snape again. Why do we have to see him since before the year starts..." Ron swallowed, glancing at Moody nearby. Moody just frowned into his face, looking like a cross between a smirk and something else. His eye followed Snape along, and went back into his head. Hermione looked aghast, with a scowl of disgust. She hid it, though, and Moody just spoke "Old Snapey is just another of those cronies. You, remain careful with him." He pointed at Harry. His eyes roamed over his scar, and continued " He used to be another of those bags of crap under Ol' Voldy. Dumbledore trusts him, but I know the price of a false faith." He pointed at his knee, where the wooden part started. "Constant Vigilance, boys. And girls." He added in an undertone. He made to leave the room, as Malfoy rapped on the panes. "You have any untested sweets, boy?" Asked Moody, as Malfoy shouted.

"Potter!" He spat. "Come on out you filthy-.. how the hell does he always find the company of a professor, huh? Hello Professor Moody." Moody remained silent. Harry expected him to start shouting, but then, Fred passed one of those sweets from his pouch to Moody's hand. Harry realised that Moody had taken the untested sweet from Fred's hand for Malfoy. He sat back, happy that Moody was going to take care of the business.

Moody handed over the sweet to Draco, who seemed delighted. "Thanks, Sir! Father has told me a lot about you, Sir!" "I doubt they were good words, sonny. Constant Vigilance!" he said it and winked at Fred as he turned back. Fred smiled, and whispered at Hermione "That was V2, Hermione, V2!" "It was totally pug, too, I guess." "How did he guess you had untested ones? He must have known that you two were the ones making it." The twins came to realisation. "He was a Professor! Why the heck did you give him one." They bickered on the top of their voices for some time after that. Malfoy ate the sweet, throwing the wrapper inside their compartment.

Sure enough, as they reached Hogwarts, Malfoy was a Pug. The sliding doors were shut, and the panes open. The twins were holding the green half of another tofu, seeing as Malfoy had eaten the sweet as a whole.

Hermione explained, as the red one took 25 seconds for action, and the antidote just 8, it was the action of the red one that had persisted. George took another sweet and had been holding it as bait over Malfoy for a good part of the journey.

George dropped it. Malfoy took it in the mouth, and turned gradually into a man. "Parkinson, you got a perfect match there with Malfoy for a while!" Shouted Ron, into the corridor, as Malfoy ran off with his gang.

"Pugfaces." They rolled in laughter, after which they got some of the normal sweets from the lady who sold them, while Harry dealt cards for a match of Exploding Snap.

"Do you people think Vol- YKW is back? I mean, there was that man at the Cup..." "He shouted at the others for abandoning YKW. I don't think he's got so many followers right now. No followers for someone who's dead..." " Maybe, but Dumbledore said he is still alive, somewhere." "You are talking about someone who said, and I quote 'Gladfish, Bladders and frozen steak' at the end of his speech when we joined." "He said Nitwit, Bubber, oddments and tweak, on the year we started." Said Ron.

" The point is, Dumbledore is old. He is still the genius, but an old genius. He will be preparing for a war 80 years in advance, and would succeed winning even if he dies years before. You don't have those brains, so it is not your thing to worry about. Maybe, we give Hermione permission to worry about it, but you ain't that smart, Harry, accept it."

They changed clothes, and the twins went to find Lee Jordan. Hogwarts was near, and as they packed back, they stopped at a halt, while Ron slipped in the inertia. Harry pulled him back and they climbed down, as the driverless carriages waited for them. They got one early on, so only the three of them got into it, and enjoyed the privacy with the Marauder's map, finding all staff at the Great Hall, except Snape and Moody. Muddy was coming some carriages behind them, while Hagrid was in the Forbidden forest's edge, with Fang. Odd, that the map showed Fang. It didn't usually show animals, or so Harry thought. Then he remembered it showed Mrs. Norris, and abandoned that streak of thought.

What was Hagrid doing near the forest instead of bringing the first-years by the lake?

The carriages left them near the Caste's main entrance, as they got down. Filch was ushering all students in, those who came in before them.

An eventful journey after all.

* * *

 **This chapter was in totally the POV of Harry. Maybe some more chapters while at Hogwarts might be in the same way**

 **Note: I don't know why, but most names with Mr. Or Mrs. Behind them seem to disappear when I save it. If you notice any significant absences, please notify me. And an update on it, the words stay if I don't use the period in between them. So that solved it...**

 **Reviews please.**


	9. A Year begins, and so does the Feast

**Chapter 9 : A Year begins, and so does the Feast**.

Minerva Mcgonagall asked the caretaker to open up the doors. He was in the fourth floor, searching for his cat, Mrs. Norris, while Peeves had locked up the cat in the Great Hall, under the teacher's table. It had been informed to her by a house elf, and she decided it could be put off for a few minutes till the feast began.

She stationed Argus under the old Oak, the one close to the Doors, most often the location where the Thestrals chose to drop off the carriages. Usually, there was high affinity for the creatures towards flesh and Blood, and the Doors of Hogwarts and the Great Hall were some of the major sites of bloodshed, be it the Great Goblin wars of 1156 and 1467, or the more recent Wizarding wars of 1590. The historical sequences followed by general historians made the more recent Wizarding wars, by both Dark Lords, Grindelwald, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, were subsequently named the first and second. Both these wars were fortunately not fought in the grounds of Hogwarts. They had been mostly silent, and cold, with major battles fought in various locations. The key figures of the war had fought, and Dumbledore had secured students from harm each time. The bloodshed under the halls made it a favourite site for the thestrals to come there.

Argus grumpily looked on, as all the carriages started coming. The man hated children, and here he was, in a school, of all places.

The basic defensive measures were usually taken for students of higher classes. The lake had been forbidden grounds for an indeterminate time. Dumbledore had been absolutely strict on that. The students were brought by the thestrals, even the first years. There had been something seriously secretive going on under the waters, and it was not obviously going to be shared with anybody, even staff.

There was a ripple in the air. He had come. Alastor was walking towards her. "Minerva! At long last!" "Alastor!" They hugged, as students passed on. They were glaring at him, especially a first year that came along in that carriage. They were obvious. This man is a lunatic. "Ah! Good ol' Hoggy warty Hogwarts. Who's teaching what now, eh, Minerva? You'll be transfiguration, won't ye?" He laughed, and did not wait for her reply as he limped across the long lane to the teacher's table.

The newer students were asked to split along to the right. Usually, the new students would come late to the castle, via boats, and would be arrival to at time for the Sorting. Older students would have enough time to take their seats. So, now the new students were detained at the entrance, and they were to be shown around the outer parts of the castle, with mentions to the avoidance of the Willow ant the Forbidden Forest, under threat of death.

Minerva went back to the teacher's table. She had just gone to welcome Alastor. Only Severus was nowhere within sight. Dumbledore did not seem perturbed by this. He was busy talking with Alastor. Minerva smiled at the sight of Mrs. Norris jumping up at Sybill. She stood upon the table, and then pounced along the lane, sprinting across the lanes and jumping at his masters as the students coming late laughed at them.

* * *

Harry placed back the map as he saw Filch at the entrance, while McGonagall was closely following metres behind. He muttered "Mischief managed." As the map turned blank he heard Hermione say the same thing, thinking he had forgotten to do so.

They went past Filch's basic security detector. This was mainly the piercing gaze of the caretaker, mixed with loathing, anger and lots of other sweet things. As they crossed, he saw McGonagall cross and greet Moody as Moody hugged her like a bear. He just saw that Moody carried around a staff, rather than your usual walking stick. Harry just turned and walked towards the Gryffindor table, and chose a seat more towards the front. He led Ron and Hermione to the chosen seats, while they bickered on something, regarding the food of Hogwarts. "You mean this is all slavery? I thought of going vegetarian, but now I have lost my appetite. Thank you so much, Ron." She sat on the seat, turning away from the table, in the direction of the teacher's table. McGonagall returned, behind Moody, beside Moody, and she got to the table, after which she looked around.

Trelawney was gagging on something. It seemed something had been scratching at her. It was Filch's cat, the average troublemaker's torture. It then prowled on the teacher's table, and went running along the length of the hall to reach Filch. Trelawney was giving a creepy look of a fish out of water, with her mouth wide open. Professor Sinistra patted her on the shoulder. Dumbledore chuckled, as McGonagall asked him something in his ear. He replied loudly "Ah, never mind, Minerva, here he comes. Snape was dragging Draco to the entrance, then left his collar, and held his head high as he walked in long strides towards the teacher's table. His cloak sweeped the floor as he went. His usual appearence as an overgrown bat was too accurate as a description. He nodded at the Headmaster and and took his seat to the right side. The Sorting Hat was brought in front.

It started singing, though phrasing each word with a slow, but firm pace.

 _Darkness awaited my masters,_

 _the day they started a monument._

 _Lasting long, t'was the goal._

 _Through fields of blood, and thrones of bones_

 _wrought iron, forged shields,_

 _darkness never sought._

 _They built this school, rock on rock._

 _Brick on brick_

 _Godric, of proud heart._

 _Victorious in battle and war._

 _Helga, with her love and light._

 _Loyal even after death._

 _Salazar, the lord of snakes_

 _Smartness being redefined._

 _Rowena with the greatest mind._

 _Her knowledge reigning supreme._

 _Created in their image,_

 _glory sought and given._

 _Your destination shall be decided by me._

 _I give you the friends you need_

 _on your way to the desired destiny._

 _Starting the school, they decide,_

 _A need for sorting,_

 _The unanimous vote, with the student's wish prime._

 _They took some spare cloth,_

 _stitched out a hat._

 _To serve their needs,_ _I manifest._

 _I have seen every mind, Britain's greatest sorted._

 _So, it is that ye students are given a house._

 _Gryffindor, where the brave forge history_

 _Hufflepuff, where society is built_

 _Slytherin, where the lords rule_

 _and dear intelligent Ravenclaw_

 _where future is determined._

 _After all, where does life end up,_

 _without courage, art and wisdom_

 _but most important, is all these with goodness of heart._

 _For what are we, but mortals, and the world needs a bit more good._

"Boo! No Rhyme scheme!" Shouted the twins, as Dumbledore nodded. The hat made a face at the twins, and some first years laughed. With Dumbledore asking the twins politely to forgive the hat, the Sorting began.

"Nothing special, was there? It sounds like the hat changes songs each year..." asked Harry, the question pointed at Hermione.

"Yeah, you didn't know that, Harry? We missed last year, but... oh the year before the last, you were coming with the car, weren't you... oh, yes it changes songs each year."

The Sorting ended, with lesser students than usual.

* * *

As Minerva took the Hat back to his room, Dumbledore waited as Argus came forward and gave him the list of prohibitions he had requested for. Dumbledore frownedDumbledore took the stage, silencing the hall. Only whispers still persisted, and with a tap of his glass, Dumbledore got rid of that too. "Another year awaits us, dear students. Welcome, new students, and know that Hogwarts is extremely pleased to have you all. Enjoy your time here, study, play, and make the world proud. A few warnings ought to be issued, with instructions from our caretaker, Mr. Argus Filch. No product of Zonko's is allowed, no wandering around the corridors after curfew, no entering into Girl's Bathrooms, boys, and vice versa, Girls." He said it with a glimpse at the trio, with a wink and a smile at the corner of his mouth. "The forbidden forest is off grounds, and no student who values their life is to enter. The Black lake is now being forbidden to students for an indefinite time period." Amidst series of shouts, he continued.

" There has been a... happening over the summer. Our fellow inhabitants of the premises of Hogwarts, the Merfolk, have decreed that we are not to trespass in their territory for personal reasons. This means no wading, although it is colder than a block of ice for most of the year. Specifically, for urinating into those waters, you can be charged to serious consequences by them, maybe even the trials underwater." This arose to giggles, as they all knew who had done it. Cormac McLaggen had done it last year as a dare, and faced a five minute underwater dumping by some mermaids and had been left ashore in the nude.

"Let me introduce your new Professors for the year. Welcome Professor Alastor Moody, ex-Auror, who shall teach you Defence Against the Dark Arts. He is just here for the one year, so I suggest students to get his help as much as they require. Specifically the students in their OWL year and their NEWT years. It is not the usual classes that you have, being taught from an Ex-Auror. Also, we have Professor Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank for the classes in Care of Magical Creatures, who has replaced Professor Rubeus Hagrid, after his request for remaining as only the Keeper of Keys, and Gamekeeper positions."

"And now for the main news. As most of you might have heard from your parents-" He saw Harry stick out his tongue at Draco. "- there is a significant event that has been prepared to be held at our school this year. The TriWizard Tournament!"

There were murmurs, but no significant surprise among the students. "It is a tournament in which three of the greatest schools of Europe shall participate, and a champion is selected from each school. There have been a serious issues of fatalities in the advent of the tournament, but now, it has been decided by the Ministry that this shall be again continued as a practice, and it is no more a centennial tournament. The latest, most interesting update has been issued by Mister Bartemius Crouch..." The hall went deadly silent, students in rapt attention. "That this tournament shall be held once every Three years! He could see Ginny Weasley slam her Goblet on the desk. "What! Then if you implement Age limits, we will all lose the chance of trying! How is that even allowed?" "Miss Weasley, the new amendment on the Age limit has been changed to the years of participating students, my dear girl. I shall explain once dear Barty is here with the Goblet of Fire."

After some time, while he called for some drinks for everybody, Barty Crouch entered the hall, wearing a distorted hat. "Good evening, students of Hogwarts. I am Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. It is my office, alongside the Department for Magical Sports that organises this massive event. The schools that will be participating along with Hogwarts are Durmstrang Institute of Magic and Beauxbatons Academy of Magic."

"Wth the new amendment to the previous act, much aided by our dear Headmaster, Professor Albus Dumbledore, we have concluded that the originally proposed plan for the Tournament will be modified to a Tournament once every three years, and the other agreement drawn was to admit students of the next three groups to graduate, shall be allowed to participate. The Age limit is taken off, and now, illustrating it, assuming the year's tournament to be the first, then all students from Year Five, Six and Seven shall be admitted. The next tournament can be played by students in Year Four, Three, and Two. This is the plan that has been adopted. For now. Thank you."

"Waiting for three more years! Bah!" Shouted somebody from the Slytherin tables. Dumbledore silenced the hall, and said "This plan promotes equal chance for all. It does not matter to you, my boy. If the tournament is held once in a hundred years, you wouldnt have a choice, Master Vaisey. I suggest you please accept this opportunity."

With some commotion at the Gryffindor table, Albus sat in his seat, as Barty took the vacant seat of Hagrid.

"Let the feast commence!"

* * *

Fred and George clapped hands in happiness. "Hey Angie- you were sayin'? We are now included too. Wow!" "Angelina already came of age, I mean, 17. So she can already have a chance even without this amendment." Said George, to Ginny, who asked questioningly.

"I'm starving. Why don't they start the feast, then start the talking back again. I hate this system. " "You just had 12 glasses of Pumpkin juice, Ron. Honestly!" Said Hermione. She had not drunk anything but water since the Sorting. "Harry! How can you stand it?" She said, as she knocked off his arm with the Hot Chocolate. "These are made out of slavery. These drinks, and all the food that is going to come, is made my house elves, countless, by the sound of it, and they are being worked endlessly to make us dinner. Are your hearts so hard?" She all but shouted at everyone in the vicinity.

"Let the feast commence!" Said Dumbledore.

"I am not eating." Said Hermione, and proceeded to walk out of the table, and leave the Hall. "Miss Granger!" Called Dumbledore. "A word, if you would please."

"Um.. Professor Dumbledore. I just .. the food was made out of slaving the house elves in the kitchen, so I thought.. Sir?" She came to the corridor, where Dumbledore had taken her to. "Miss Granger. The house elves of Hogwarts do not do it out of force, you know. Their blood flows to serve, that is their motto. They were once a separate race, but once they saw the potential in wizardkind, they decided they would do better in service. They have served us for centuries, and you can still see elves who are as old as a century working in Hogwarts still. You can not deny them of what they ask for, can you?"

"Sir, I'm sorry, but I saw Winky, the house elf of at the World Cup. We both, I mean, Harry and I saw him. She was just pretty battered, you see. She was in the Top Box, holding a seat for Mr. Crouch who did not even come for the entirety of the match. She was not even sitting in the seat she held." "My dear, wizards have exploited this relation batsmen men and elves for centuries, it is history. But you cannot decide upon their sadness with one elf, can you? I know you have heard about Dobby, the free elf? The one our dear Harry saved from cruel masters? Well, I have given him a job in Hogwarts too. Care to see?" He pointed at the portrait of fruits that they had reached."Do not ask them if they want wages or if they want to be free. They consider it an offensive term."

He pushed it, as it swung open, as many elves stared at the visitors. "Headmaster, Sir, what does you want? How can we help you? More Sherbet lemons? You love eating them." Not now, dear. We came here to see you all. How is the school? Any discomforts?" "Nothing sir! Not a single problem sir! We is very happy with school, sir!" "Miss granger, you wants any French dishes that you likes so much?"

"I'll leave Miss Granger here." Said Dumbledore.

After a hour, Hermione exited the kitchen with full stomach, convinced that she had been proved wrong.

* * *

 **More chapters on the way. Please review.**


	10. Reactions and Regular classes

**Chapter 10: Reactions and Regular Classes**

* * *

Dumbledore was in his room. The Sorting hat hated it to be back on the shelf. "Why can't I be on your desk again?" "It is because you wanted to be on the shelf, and could you please be silent again? It is Fawkes' burning day. He feels a bit nauseous. " "Bla bla bla... Bla bla bla... BLA BLA BLA! " Fawkes cawed. He spit out a yellowish substance on Dumbledore's robe, and the three official notices from the Board and the Ministry got drenched in vomit. "Hehehehe" the hat cackled, as Fawkes burst into flame. Dumbledore was uncomfortable with all the puke in front of him, and with Fawkes burning, the hat roared in laughter, as the Headmaster struggled. Dumbledore still managed to throw a crumpled bit of paper into the hat's mouth fold, as the hat spit it out. "I do not ... why.. how in the world did all before me tolerate your..." The hat saw Everard suggest something. "No. No. I won't. I am the very heritage of the castle. I know what that charlatan would suggest. Albus, you _don't dare listen to him_. I will not be..."

After sometime, Dumbledore chuckled as the sounds from the shaking cupboard on the far side of the room were muffled, and Fawkes arose from the ashes. Good Morning, my dear." The hat hated life.

* * *

Muggle London is very crowded. I have no need for speed, and I prompt Bertha to get to Diagon Alley. "Quite the hypocrite, aren't you?" "Shut up. I need to check Gringotts for something. Which pureblood families are you related to? Any close to Avery, or even better, Lestrange?" "Neither. I am actually related by a distant cousin of my mother's aunt to the Yaxleys, but I know not of any other. " "Too bad. Yaxley' account is 8 slots away from the Lestranges. I have a Horcrux in there, and Avery's box is next to it. I need to cry for Hepzibah Smith, you know her? 'Puffs for life. She actually showed me some of her treasures. She took items that were not her own and kept them safe in boxes. They were possessions of the Hogwarts founders, and she kept them hidden for her own reasons."

"Now where have I heard that before?" Bertha says sarcastically. I make a face.

"Anyways, why do you make Horcruxes, die, and then come back, only to eat them back, huh? What do you actually plan on doing?"

"I don't know, Bertha. It seems splitting your soul does save your life, but I do not like being in such a life. It deprives me of joy, except maybe the sadistic one that I used to have. No, you have nothing to worry. I impart a part of my personality in the body I claim. But the host also changes me. I had been using snakes for bodies, but I got more urges for food, and revenge. The snakes couldn't tolerate power, and they withered. Your body has changed my perspective, albeit slightly. I still long to kill the old fool Dumbledore, for not giving my job. Even though he had vacancies."

" I hardly see any person with brains giving a job to a Dark Lord, Tony. Bad career choice. And you teaching children the Unforgivables isn't one that would be appreciated by anyone, Ave you and your cronies."

" They aren't cronies, they are followers. And self defence isn't bad." "You are not worth talking, dummy. Killing isn't self defence. And shut up. I'm going home. You can get some other _host_ to get to the vault. I'm bored. And waiting for Halloween."

* * *

Bill Weasley was shaken awake. "Whaat! Am I not allowed to sleep at work? " he yawned, and ruffled his hair up. "What is it Golbug?" "There is a British man waiting for you at the reception. " "Send him in. Where does he say he came from?"

Golbug left without a reply. Bill straightened his hair out, and started twisting the earring of his.

"Sir! I am Dawlish. John Dawlish, from the Auror office of the British Ministry of Magic. I have been assigned to deliver this to you, Mister Weasley. " He handed over a scroll. As Bill rolled it out, he saw the matter. "Is this even approved?" He asked, aghast. "Why would they even. And who suggested this? I knew mermaids were out of the question, and the leak of info within the ministry was such that they cancelled the Dragons and the Sphinx too. But this? Preposterous. Who suggests this kind of ... Umbridge. Yeah, I get it. That old frog ... " "We call her the toad. " grinned Dawlish. "She did not want centaurs in the tasks, saying they are half breeds. Nor were sirens allowed, in case women were selected by the Goblet. So they put off the idea for using Sirens and the selkies depending upon the champions. Hogwarts teaches defending against Kappas Grindylows and Redcaps. Banshees can kill if unaware. And they broke the one Dampener Supreme for Banshee Riddance that the British owned. So it might have to be imported. Canada has high costs for importing Wendigos, and the brethren of Vampires specifically asked to be excluded from this event. They thought it all out early on. So they finally decided on calling for yours."

"Pity, Charlie was giving out the Dragons, wasn't he? And I suspect they sent out an Auror for petty business like this cos'-" "- yeah, they are running out of ideas. The first task is with sarcophagi and boggarts. Maybe even some of ...you know, them, but we thought they would better be left sleeping..." " No, we can actually spare a few. They are in need of a vacation. Maybe the winter of the temperate zones might give 'em a good holiday. They usually just help with curse breaking, with us devising new ways. They hate some of their predecessors, so they help us burgle more magic out of there."

"Ok, then. Fill out this form, and state the option that you would be exporting. I think option 'E' is the one. I've got one more stop before I go back home. Remember the Wandmaker? He is to come for some sort of ceremony. They plan on sending Shacklebolt for bringing beasts for the next task. I'm done with this."

"How are Dad and Percy? Any news?"

"Nah, Arthur's fine, we don't get along much, but Percy is in sorrow. That boy is worrying too much for his boss. Barty' son, you know, that Death Eater, he died in the house, and there's an investigation pending. He's crying for Crouch while Crouch keeps his stone face. Ah, let's get going then. Thank you William!" Bill finished signing the form with a curved stroke and took out his stamp. He punched as the Gringotts logo fell emblazoned on the form with the red ink. The goblins standardised the usage of ink, using Red for all human related formalities. They used the usual blue for personal matters, and green for matters of grave importance.

"Try coming for the tournament, Mr Weasley. The French school, whatever its name is, is bringing Veela. The time for a task is sufficient for some backstage kissing." He winked, and left for the Floo.

Bill stared. The students who were going to be selected were poor, poor indeed. To handle the first task would be just that. A monumental task for the worthy, and only for the worthy. He opened the door, and asked for a meeting to be scheduled with King Ramses.

* * *

"The other schools would be arriving by Halloween. The Goblet of fire shall be lighted at dawn of the first day of November, and a week's time shall be given for any willing participant. The names of the best will be picked on the 8th of November, and the champions shall be required to attend the great ceremony of the Wand Weighing, and as a symbol of unity, the Yule ball shall be organised. Due to delayed preparatory measures on behalf of the authorities, the First task shall be held on a yet to be finalised date in the second week of January. "

The Gryffindor Head girl was reading the announcement from the notice board aloud, while the Headboy whacked Dennis Creevey with a "Listen, boy, listen." Ron went to the boy's dormitory, picked out his wand from the desk near the bed. He saw Harry coming back from the Common room for the same purpose. "Good morning, Harry!" Harry went back to the bed, and fell down, face first, immediately snoring. Ron shrugged, and waved Neville an enthusiastic "Good Morning!" Neville waved back, as Seamus came in. "They want us to wait for three more years. Boring! And they poke the stick even further into the eye with an endless stream of announcements. This is abusive, I tell ye. Who can wait for years, man!"

"I am gonna try entering. This year." Said Ron. "You possibly can't. It's restricted." "With a proper Confundus and an Age potion, it might just work. By the way, both me and Harry are gonna... we're gonna enter the Triwhiz tourn, and come out with that bag of galleons." "You're raving. As if they would let you enter. It is not gonna work."

"Or we can ask a senior student to drop our names in, can't we? They can go, put our names in and come out, can't they?"

"Sour grapes, Ron. And ain't gonna get ripe for three more years."

Harry rolled, and raised his hand in his sleep. "We'll do this, Ron! Go Gryffs!" Then his hand dropped, and the snores followed.

Ron looked at the sleeptalker with an amaze don't look, and called him. "Hey Harry, we are late for Divination. Climbing the tower would take time, mate. Come on, now."

* * *

"Dreams, my children. They are the route of transmission of thoughts from the land of the living, to the land of the unliving."

"How do you unlive, Ron?" "Simple Harry, you un-die and wait to be un-born, ending up back as a sperm in your father's -" as they sniggered, Trelawney stared at them.

With her eyes looking like marbles, she moved toward them, and asked their latest dream. When Ron said he had not had any recently, she shrieked. "Oh, no, my boy. It is an ill omen. Don't you remember any recent dreams? You surely haven't been bitten by a goose in the near past, have you? My dear child, drink some of this." She brought out a cup of old tea dregs collected from used tea bags. As she heated the water, Ron muttered "I don't want... my dreams... I remember one. Professor. I was in ... professor?"

She turned. Apparently she had not heard him. He raised his voice, and continued. "In my dream, I was... in a... a flying chair, professor. It had wheels like Muggle cars, ... and a bird hit me in the face.. as I-" "What kind of bird, my child, was it a raven?" "No, it was a peacock... " "psst Ron! Peacocks don't fly, Ron!" "It's my dream, Harry, they can fly in my dreams."

"My child, if a flightless bird happens to have gained the powers of flight, it is said that the curse of Icarus is upon you. You may die if you fly. The sun is your enemy, and do not go into the open daylight. Beeswax betrays you." As she went past, Ron called her. "Professor, Harry has a dream to tell you about."

"Ron I swear, I'll kill you ... Um.. my dream was... I was roasting professor Snape in an oven. He was crying out loud in pain and I ... increased the heat even more." This class was a single class, so no other houses were present. The present company hated Snape, so there were no rats among them to complain. Naturally, he got a good deal of giggling. "My boy, cooking the _guru_ is said to increase performance, while earning the wrath of the master of that art." "So I make better potions, and Snape tortures me even more?" "That doesn't sound as good as the dream itself, mate."

The period ended with Trelawney mostly ignoring their non-academic comments and instead resorting to setting up a Dream diary, with notes on it for the entirety of the next month. The following months would be interpretation. With angry groans, they left the tower, Sir Cadogan marching alongside them with comments adding to the misery of the situation.

* * *

George was woken to reality with a rough shake. It was Moody's first class, and the twins had come soon so that they mad a good impression on the professor. He also planned on asking him for improvements on the sweet, seeing as he was impressed on their work. It was all lost as Moody yelled. "You don't sleep in my classes. Understood? Yes. CONSTANT VIGILANCE! He shouted, as they felt their spines straighten up.

"Good. Whatever you have learnt so far is just basic defence against non human entities. Defence," he said "comprises of One, knowing your enemy, Two listening to, seeing at and speaking with the enemy, and Three," whatever he said came up on the blackboard.

"You decide the course of action next. Tell me your immediate move. What do you do as the enemy comes forth. First year, Professor Grave taught you..." he paused, as Alicia said "Zombies don't exist."

"Yes of course, an important part of knowing your enemy is if he exists. You can't fight an imaginary enemy unless you've been under hallucinogens, or with schizophrenia. NEXT!"

"We learnt to run fast under the next professor. And muggle fighting. Nothing much-"

"Running away from the enemy is probably the best thing you scumbags can do, boy. It shows you two things. Your intellect,a don your physical strength. A punch to the nose can easily fracture it, with an excellent rate of bleeding. Cutting the wrist with a flick of your knife. You can kill a person casting curses with that if he doesn't know a simple healing charm. Next!

"Vampires hate garlic."

"You see, it is possible for you dunderheads to ignore such information. Eating a garlic before fighting a vamp an easily reduce the chances of you joining the undead. Silver with werewolves. Wax and feathers with any maze. A sword or even a good grip on the horn with a Minotaur. A good apology to a centaur." He chuckled. "Next!"

"Never let pixies out from a cage. Actually we did not experience it, but some of the... fourth years of this year did. Professor Lockhart opened and let loose a bunch of Cornish pixies into the classroom." Said George.

"And what do you learn from that?"

"Don't let a tied up enemy free for boasting?" " Never let the enemy loose?" " Don't be Lockhart?"

"All of that" grinned Moody. I got a chance to speak with your previous Professor of the subject, Remus Lupin, and I am under the impression he was well received among you people."

"Now. List out all possibilities of avoiding fight. Start."

He wrote down on the board as they spoke and in the end the board was filled with a flow chart of sorts. Most options were stated by the Ravenclaws.

 _1\. Run away._

 _2\. In case running fails- Use some diversion to escape. Damage opponent's means of tracking you. Formulate a way to trap opponent._

 _2.1 If opponent_ _uses Unforgivables- try a brave escape, and inform Ministry(sure punishment.). Try freezing enemy_

 _2.2 If opponent stalls - expect reinforcements, call for some of your own, formulate escape routes_

 _2.3 If opponent strikes- retaliate and escape. Escape._

 _2.4 If opponent's cause is/might be justified- try talking, be ready to escape, anticipate an attack always._

Usually, retaliation is taught to students younger than you all, and second year might be perfect. Your previous teacher's were mostly worthless, with exceptions, of course.

Now then, I suggested the Unforgivables for an option, so which one of you knows those curses, mmm? It's well below OWL standards, but still..." Angeline raised her hand, as did the twins and all the Ravenclaws on the other side of the room. "Miss Johnson?" "The Imperius, The Cruciatus, and The Killing Curse, sir."

"Good, take a point to Gryffindor." See a demonstration... right .. here. Now." He took a jar with 5 spiders. "One for each year." He took one out, and muttered an 'Imperio' as the spider stopped struggling. It dangled, as Moody engorged it. The spider grew up to the size of a Crystal Ball that was used in Divination.

"Illegal to be performed on humans and other sentient species. Total command on the being. We Aurors have received special permission for usage of the Three Curses, at times of need. It was the previous war, you see. Now. Where can this Curse be used and what is the difference between the Confundus and the Imperius? Essay in a 8 foot long parchment to be submitted on Tuesday."

"No consumption of gum in my class, Mr Phelps. You know, your Uncle caused the Stinkitus of 1979. 800 stink pellets on the Prophet. It is a commendable feat, with all the crap they wrote. Don't smile, I just remembered the good times. Still, no gum in class."

He stopped the curse and put on the Cruciatus. The spider writhed, as Moody stopped it. "Not funny. It is torture. You do not get fun out of it. Avada Kedavra." The twitching spider died. "That was Euthanasia. Add a footnote on the properties of light in wandlore, there's more to it in Arithmancy, and why the Killing curse emits a green glow even if cast wrong. Make the essay a 10 feet one. Off you go. CONSTANT VIGILANCE."

* * *

 **How is Moody's class? I did not want the usual classes for the trio, so I wrote it like this instead.**

 **Please Review**


	11. The Escape

**Chapter 11 - The Escape**

In the darkness, there loomed the fortress. Albus viewed it from the point of limited Apparation, as it was a distinctly important site of history. Gellert was imprisoned in here. In his prison, of all possible sites. Usually, Albus used Fawkes as his means of travel, but today he felt different

Albus used his Time turner to leave the castle after sitting in his desk for two solid hours. That way, he could return in the right moment. He saw himself in the corner of his room, waving at him, then disappearing through the Floo. He was sure that nobody was arriving in those hours, after he experienced it. He saw himself at the door to his office, coming in a flash of flame. He rolled the device for two hours, saw his older self, waved, and went to the floo. He disappeared to the old shack with the permanently working fireplace in Germany. Then, he apparated to the point of limited Apparation, near Nurmengard, in Germany.

The path was well illuminated in the dark, the concentric waystones around the prison glowing with bioluminescent fungi. He walked, the distance being 25 miles, each circle marked with sensors for detection, marked for specific exit, and entry. A Dark-Lord deserved this security. Albus walked as he saw the second milestone.

* * *

 _It was in a quiet evening of summer. Godric's Hollow bathed in the beautiful reddish orange glow of sunset, mixed with the dark mood of the day. Kendra Dumbledore had died. Ariana had been in one of her fits. Her mother had cried with her in her beds. Ariana was a poor thing. She was very silent, for most of the time. She had been in her beds, as she remembered the incident. Her father had chased them off. The Cruciatus was used on the muggle savages, and Percival had paid with a lifelong sentence in Azkaban. Ariana was never same, or sane again. Her mother and Aberforth had been her joy, her delight. She was mostly bedridden. Albus was the undeserving brat. He minded about his name, and gained enough fame before his mother's death. The fourteen year old girl was not to be blamed. What had happened, happened. They knew their mother would never come back. Ariana was at the grave. Her head lolled to a side. She recognised people, and spoke with a slight lisp. Her magic was the problem. She radiated magic, and Kendra had been struck. She hadn't had time to cast a simple shield._

 _Ariana was no Obscurial. She was allowed to use her magic, and despite her childishness, she was good at it too. In fact, with Aberforth helping her cast simple charms, with his own wand, had greatly improved her mind. She usually did it in the breaks, when Aberforth was home. Albus was never at home, or at least he made everybody feel as if he weren't home. He sent out letters, daily and sometimes even hourly, with a small makeshift owlery at the southern end of the Hollow. Ariana loved her brothers, but Albus never was with her._

 _Kendra's had been simple. It had the brothers, their sister, other inhabitants of Godric's Hollow, and with one very special, very much invited guest. Gellert Grindelwald was so pained with sorrow by the news, he had come across countries. Kendra's funeral passed, each of the gossiping neighbour paying their respects to their old friendly neighbor. The mood became infused with sorrow as time passed. Aberforth sat along with Ariana on the ground, as they played, old forgotten games, brother and sister, as the worthless and cruel, unloving brother stood by, watching the scene as pure childishness._

* * *

He longed for it now. He longed for having Ariana back. He longed for his brother. He wanted them back, a new start at life. He cried as he walked.

He crossed the fourth milestone. He hardened himself, as he prepared for the walk ahead.

* * *

 _The night of the fight was horrible. Albus cast the covers to the surroundings. Aberforth need not have gotten involved._

 _Gellert took the chance. He used Aberforth's anger, and channeled it at Albus. He taunted Aberforth, making it a three way duel. Aberforth was never the skilled attacker. He was very good at transfiguration, as good as Madam Marchbanks, but he was never the duellist. Gellert laughed, his hair rolling down his sides. Albus hated the man now. His love for knowledge and power had driven him into this whirlwind of selfishness and the self proclaimed 'good intentions'. He cast hundreds of charms, spells and curses that night, that a perfect Priori incantatem would get stuck midway. His spells matched the emotions within him. Fear and desire for safety, being replaced by rage and cause by each passing moment. He watched as Ariana fell. Albus shook with sorrow and wand turned at Grindelwald. It was Albus' first, and last attempt at the Killing curse. Grindelwald disappeared with a cackle, as the swirling cold of the kind lying curse hit a tombstone and broke it. Aberforth shrieked in horror. He ran at Ariana as Albus saw the Disapparating figure in the mist, his gaze transfixed at what he now decided was his enemy. His nemesis. Aberforth had called for Albus, and Albus, with all the things he could have done, ran from the site. Running away, the only good means of escaping a problem._

 _Aberforth screamed the stunning charm, coupled with the Cruciatus at him. Hit by both, Albus crumpled. "Murderer." He felt the cold of the spit trickling through his face._

 _Amidst all the bone twisting, skin tearing, and visceral pain, that was the one that hurt him most._

* * *

Albus saw the stone. It gleamed a 14. He proceeded on, the last mystery of his sister's death revealed, by none other than his sister. It had been Gellert.

He knew what was going to happen. It had been one of Pandora's, and she had been in her control, so it was clear. No knots, no vagueness, none. Clear as a crystal, and unchangeable. It had come along with the solution, but the thought of the collateral damage that was going to happen before that good end was to take place, was surely regrettable.

The day being specified in such a state was funny. Destiny and fate had entwined this particular string in such a fascinating way, it made Albus smile, despite his memories flooding him.

* * *

 _"Ariana! Ariana! Please wake up, I would give anything... please... please don't. Don't leave us. YOU! Albus you piece of dirt. I told you. You never listened, did you. Golden boy. The leader. The prefect. The head boy. The teacher's pet. The teacher's teacher. Now add this to your collection. Murderer of his own sister." Aberforth spat on the bound form of Albus. Albus was crying. Ariana's body was in the Aberforth's lap. He cradled her form, as he wept. "You know, you cannot escape the truth. I saw you screaming the killing curse, you wretch. I saw you cast it. You killed her. I think you aimed it at me, but I am not glad you missed." Albus raised his head, shocked. "What? I did not kill her. I saw your blasting hex miss. You hit her, you fool. I admitted her death to be my fault because this duel started because of that ... that... that sycophant I called a friend."_

 _"Albus. This is no chance for the blame to shift. You accuse me... me of killing Ari.. Ariana?" He sobbed. " Playing the good man, are we. You kill, I take the blame. Not wanting your name besmirched, do you? You don't deserve my attention. You are no brother of mine. That brother never existed. You are something else. Go." The bonds fell away. Albus was free. "We shall hold her funeral Aberforth. Our sister is now in the next great adventure." SMACK_

 _Albus felt the nose break. He cried, not in pain. Gellert shall pay._

 _"She is my sister. I shall take care of everything. Begone, you miserable oaf. Go away."_

 _Sobbing, Aberforth laid the corpse on the ground. He kneeled next to her and cried aloud._

 _"What are you waiting for? Go with your brother, you know, your adopted brother." He said scathingly. " Let us rest in peace. Forget us. The feeling of being not wanted is mutual. I don't need you, you don't need us. Go search for those Hallows anywhere, and try to get a piece of something you never had. Love."_

 _Albus stayed, his wrath at Grindelwald increasing with every single swear word uttered by his brother. Gellert shall pay._

 _He watched as his sister was lowered into the ground, as Aberforth shot a light of pure sight into the air. Ariana's face decorated the skyline. Her innocent smile, her beautiful eyes, her straight hair hanging, a strand over her face as she laughed in mirth. Gellert shall pay._

 _With his life._

* * *

Albus smiled. He was near. 5 more miles to the castle. The inevitable was approaching. He took the stone of resurrection in hand. Ariana appeared in his side, along with his mother and father. "It is happening, Ariana. It is time." "I trust you, brother. You shall thwart any plans of his. You are better than him in every way. You shall prevail." She kissed him on his cheek. Albus felt the cold whisper of her being close to him. "Albus, He is nothing. He has spelled his doom. It is the way of fate that it has to operate in this twisted way. Gellert shall unleash hell and it shall be replaced by heaven with his demise. " Kendra whispered. Albus saw the clouds cover the distant sky. He had to have the one chance. He increased the pace of his stride.

* * *

 _The land was barren. Albus had his clothes torn at regions. His small beard was covered in bits of leaves, his cloak flowing with the air._

 _"No more tricks, Gellert! You shall fall. No person has to die under your hand anymore."_

 _" I have crossed the limits, Dumbledore. Your power is contained, while mine has no bounds. Nothing holds me back, you see. Your poor sister, who killed her? Could you ever know that? Albus. White. The white warrior struggles against the impending darkness. " he imitated a look of thought. "And he shall lose!" He screamed, and let out a barrage of curses. Albus blocked it all._

 _"Ariana is dead. All because of you." Albus controlled the next burst of air and fire._

 _"Murderer."_

 _It triggered the blast. Albus roared, as the tongues of flame sent by Gellert became his throne. Albus raised his wand, as the rocks surrounding the area arose. They all became Sculptures of Ariana standing, all around the spot. Gellert looked on, as Albus brought down thunder. Gellert ducked, as lightning encompassed him. Surrounding the area. Emeralds came from all around, becoming the eyes of all the statues around him. Albus looked tremendous, his eyes focussed on his opponent. He was at the same spot, as a block of stone raised him to a higher level. The Fire all around started freezing, as Gellert showed true fear at the man in front. Then came the barrage of arrows, that struck all parts of the cloak that Gellert wore to the rock behind. Gellert cried out, as he felt the choking. A storm of dust floated all around him, raising his level to the same height as that of Albus._

 _" You don't have the right to speak of my sister. 'Expelliarmus'."_

 _Grindelwald screamed "NO!" As the Elder wand shot through his fingertips to its new master, Grindelwald collapsed, the earth shaking under Albus' wrath. Grindelwald fell to the ground and Albus walked over to him. The green eyes of Araiana all around looked at them, as the stones forming it fell down. "You were defeated, not killed by Albus Dumbledore. Not killed, not because you deserved life, but because You are not worth becoming a Murderer for."_

* * *

He had reached the prison. He had been walking for a hour and a half. He knew there wasnt much to be done by his hand that night, as he heard the thunder. He walked in, and among skeletons in most of the cells, he looked at the man within the cell. So much love had not changed this man, but a single display of loathing had unhinged him. "Albus Dumbledore. We meet again. And no spell that you cast at me shall now hinder my rise. I have foreseen it, Albus. The stars have shown it. It shall happen in a few minutes, and you shall witness my glory come back to me."

"Gellert. This is the last chance I offer you. Please return as the human I saw in you. Do not be the monster that deserved this place. I ask of it, and I doubt you will reconsider, but a good man is always praised, while the bad one is never. Please."

The purple lightning struck. The channeling system made to ground it failed. It coursed through the stones, between the stones and on the stones. It reached the prisoner, as he welcomed it. "Nothing can stop this, Albus. The power traverses my nerves and veins. I have come back, and without the actions of age."

"Albus sighed, as the lightning disappeared, along with the prisoner who Apparated. He looked at the time. Pandora Lovegood's series of dreams had come true. Gellert Grindelwald had become the new dark lord of the age. Albus knew Tom would never side with Gellert, their ideologies differing from the core. He called for Fawkes, as he went back to his room, signalling his past counterpart to go back.

* * *

 **How is this chapter? next chapter will be posted Soon . Reviews please**


	12. I don't know what to name this chapter

**Chapter 12 : I don't know what to name this chapter .**

"He is the coolest prof we have ever had." Said the twins in unison. "His eyes ain't the only thing that's mad off him. _He is mad_. Totally AWESOME!" " "He knows what he is doing. Harry, pass the sauce." They were at the Great Hall, eating. Ginny was eavesdropping on their conversation."Hey Ron, I think you will like him. He supposedly killed a spider. After torturing it." "Yuck. I dont want them dead. They just.. would be better if they don't have those legs, you know what I mean. They look as if they're gonna ...um..." "Walk with those legs?" Fred suggested helpfully.

Just then, Dumbledore entered the hall. Usually he was the first one to start eating, but he seemed dishevelled, as if he was working hard for the past few days. He moved past the staff table, and took his seat, while asking McGonagall to pass him something. They couldn't hear it, but seeing McGonagall pass the bowl of muggle sweets (The bowl had a blazing sticker on the side proclaiming a colourful 'Muggle Sweets').

Fred got their attention back again."See this? These were the old plans for the Triwizard tournament. Look at it. Dragons, Mermaids, Sphinxes, Acromantula, Screwts-"

"What are screwts? Scamander dosent mention them anywhere?" Asked Hermione.

"Who cares? The thing is, we've got the Yule ball on Christmas, and the Weird sisters are supposed to be coming. Cool!" Exclaimed Ginny, as Fred looked at her. "Please remain silent. You are drawing the attention of everybody." He said this with a tone of an automated telephone voice. Harry smirked, and helped himself to the chips. They were not much interested in food, with Ron eating violently in a side.

"I bet, they are gonna cancel out those old plans. Mermaids are off the score, there is something going on under the Lake. So the chances are the entire plans for the tournament are changed along with the rescheduling. So maybe we will escape from the screams of the Wierd sisters." Ginny scowled at him. Before she could reply, she was distracted and she started attempting the Heimlich on Ron, who was gagging. Again, violently.

* * *

 _Dear Miss Celestina Warbeck,_

 _We thank you for accepting the honour of chief singer for the Yule Ball, being held on the Twenty fifth of December in the Great Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on occasion of the TriWizard Tournament. We await your presence on the day before, and all necessary accommodations shall be made available. The program schedule has been attached to this letter._

 _Yours truly,_

 _Minerva McGonagall_

 _Deputy Headmistress,_

 _Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

* * *

Severus Snape was walking through his stores. He had caught the Weasley Twins planning to strip his head of hair a few minutes ago. After issuing a few detentions, he found himself at a loss, as they succeeded at it. A real loss, as his hair came off with touch, and he made their detentions fall on every weekend, especially those which included a trip to Hogsmeade.

He brewed the shot for hair replenishment. The potion could have been modified for sale as accompaniments to chemotherapy, but it contained too many magical ingredients for Muggle use. His hair started growing back, as he carefully regulated the amount of the potion he was drinking. It had effects that amplified sound perception at higher concentrations, along with an extremely long colour changing hair as a side effect.

He turned to the mirror, as he saw the staff tap the ground

"Pity ye can't grow your forearm back boy. Once a Death Eater, always -"

Snape squirted the bottle, in shock, as he whispered. "Why does it all happen to me?" He screamed, as his black hair turned blue.

"I'll be watching you, Snapey. Watching..." as he pointed to his eye, Snape held his head. The sound was. Getting unbearable.

Moody left the room, as Snape silenced the room and began making an antidote.

* * *

 _The gardens. It was his favourite site, before He came. His empire would have been unbeatable, with him holding the stolen wand. The others were not of much worth to him, but the title gained at the end was. Master of death..._

 _He clutched the vial. The container of the Elixir of life. He had work to do. Finding the prophecy made by Pandora._

 _"Rejoice, o world! Grindelwald has returned." He shouted into the air._

 _He walked towards the mansion. It had been his father's, which he had inherited. The Fidelius was still intact. None but a Grindelwald could enter, even with permission._

 _As the griffins on the gates shook their dust off, welcoming him with a bow, as he entered his abode. He walked slowly, thinking of all but revenge. He had enough time in his hands. He broke off a twig from the nearest elm. He plucked at its uneven surface, as he saw his lawns stretch at his sides. Everything restoring to its former glory, he touched the nearest statue. He summoned his automaton, the guard to his stables and caverns. His request for an unicorn was heeded by the servant._

 _He stroked the mane of the unicorn. It was a foal, its skin glowing with the diminishing sunlight._

Phoenixes for core

Bring battle to the fore.

Tails of thestrals

Death be thy toll.

Unicorn hair

Thy reign shalt be fair

And use the dragon's chords

For thy reputation fills your heart's hole.

 _He chanted, as he saw the automaton waiting for the next order. The foal pranced around, it's happiness lighting a smile on his face. "Bring my wand." The old battered wand, from his chests, which he had long stopped using, was brought. The theft from Gregorovitch had given the Dark lord his greatest weapon. He felt no need for the other wand._

 _This wand was Elm, and Unicorn tail hair. With years, he had expected it to have been aged. Gregorovitch's creation had not withered, even to the smallest extent. It still cast the transfiguration from bush to porcupine easily. It was curious that this very spell was considered the most taxing spell for broken wands in the world. Only the perfect wand can cast such a energy wasting spell._

 _He threw away the twig he brought, holding his wand in both hands. He saw the unicorn come towards him. He touched the forehead, as he patted the back. He cast a cutting charm on the tail. A single golden twirl of hair floated with the charm. He scooped up the bit before it hit the ground, and whispered the binding enchantment. The golden twirl formed a helix, winding around the wood as a perfect spiral._

 _Grindelwald raised the wand, and muttered the casting for growth, as the static hedges all around leapt, catching up with their age, as they grew. He straightened his hair, as he walked toward his mansion, the foal by his side._

* * *

"Rehearsing... ok, so I enter the castle, hope castle wards don't notice me... "

"Exclude that choice. Dumbledore isn't stupid to let you in a second time. Maybe if you were a spirit you can go off unnoticed."

"Nah... I shall not enter my school like that. We go in, I destabilise the wards from inside, you need not be seen doing anything but smile. I can enter any student, but a single student knowing my presence can blabber off, endangering me."

"So, single student, then. Decide who. You won't have time there."

"Yeah, but it is not like I know all the students of Hogwarts."

"You taught them for an year." She says in exasperation.

"Would you remember each bird faced snot who starts talking the moment you see them? Of course, Quirrel would be turning his head back, so they are technically talking behind the teacher's back."

"Don't deviate from the topic. So you are gonna possess a student, and I am gonna help you do that. That is enough for me to feel guilty for the rest of my life."

"See the good side. Your family escapes all my attacks-"

"You have been with me for ten weeks or so and you still don't see that I have no family. How thick are you?" "Maybe if you got one?" "Huh, look at this. The Dark Lord giving advice on marriage. I think I am going to puke."

"I need to get to the room of requirement, and take back my Diadem. I am not in a state to make more horcruxes. The existing ones should suffice. Hey I remembered one which I kept in a cave near the coast of Magical Dust."

"Never heard of it."

"Nah, when I was in that damned orphanage, we were taken to this .. these mountains for sightseeing. I took a couple of my servants-"

"Servants." She repeated. "At the age of, what? Eight or ten, you had servants? At an orphanage? We know what a muggle orphanage is like, Tommy. Not so good at pretending to be Dark Lord at preschool, are we?"

"Actually I did have servants. Those boys, I don't remember their names, they came with me, and I showed them a lake in the cave, they found the teacher and were threatening me to do them favours if I wanted to remain safe. I think I might have tortured them a bit, then, combined with a mind erasing, and maybe even had a few snakes up their pants."

"No wonder they don't call you by name. You are seriously unhinged."

Bertha is never cooperative. I have to control her with an Imperius even for having her speak with me. Her mouth is not used to stopping her endless flow of words, and that helps. Yes, the Dark Lord is in need of a verbal company. Stuff your laughter.

"So you go in, then what? After you get that diadem thingy, you try to escape or something?"

"No. I have other plans. Even of participating in the tournament, for one. The ending might serve me the glory of a god."

Bertha stifles her laughter. I find it easier to control victims by the Imperius, rather than the Cruciatus. Mainly because the latter might aid your victim in turning against you more easily.

* * *

 **Before the school year of 1992 started**.

"Pandora's memory is still placed in he safest place possible, Miss Lovegood. We shall have to keep this a secret. Grindelwald's escape would not be publicised. The prison is under highest security, and will continue to be, unless it has the occasional visitor. But I hope you understand the need for you to know the prophecy. It is imperative that this knowledge remains in safe hands, while the secret must not die with me, whether it takes Gellert with it or not."

"So, professor? I should accept this... This other reality? "

"Ah, Headmaster. I wanted to know if you need a Dirigible Plum Cake? It is made only at our house in the continent, I believe."

"No thanks, Xenophilius. I would rather have tea. I need to discuss a part of what Pandora asked me to tell Luna when she comes of age. And Xenophilius, could you send Luna up to Hogwarts any time before school starts?"

"Business with Pensieves? I'll send her. But Luna, my dear, take your Nargle sweat collectors with you."

"Yes Luna. There is a large horde at Hogwarts. Especially near the staircases. Bring a couple of those collectors. I will assist you." Said Dumbledore as Xenophilius exited the room to bring tea.

"So that finishes it, my dear. I shall tell you the prophecy when you come of age, or before the Klumpies foresee my death. You need to see your mother's message to you."

"Grindelwald shall soon escape. It is foreseen, destiny. With age, his powers shall grow. Violently. There is an inverse square relation between age and strength-"

"-while the direct proportionality to the order three applies with power. Yes professor, that is Rider's law of the greater proportions."

"My dear, I see you have gone through your mother's notes on handling age systems. So, to counter this, I have given a serum of the-"

"Philosopher's stone, I guess. It was in the news, professor. Who in their right minds would destroy one? I knew you had it hidden for some other purpose. That is why Father didn't mention it in the article along with Starling feet in our magazine."

"Nice deductions, Miss Lovegood. By giving him age without making him old, we avoid the possibility of him gaining the power that come with it. "

"Professor, your tea is getting cold. And you look like you are going to fall asleep any moment."

"Yes, my dear. For days. This admission process is taking quite the toll on me. The old pure blood families feel disrespected if we sent off the deputies, and they don't have the courtesy of replying to the school letter. Muggleborns and halfbloods-" he sipped his tea. "They respond with such patient letters, I feel the wizarding world needs to learn from who they oppress."

Luna poured more tea for him. "Are there plimpies in the lake at Hogwarts, sir?" "No, my dear. They only grow in uninhabited waters. We have the giant squid though, but he isn't edible."

"We shall talk at Hogwarts, my dear. Whenever you see fit to come. Password will be Sherbet lemon for this year. Ask any passing professor for my office."

"Yes sir. And I know why. I say father poking his ears into this room for the entirety of our conversation." She giggled. "Goodbye sir. I'll come and meet you at the school."

"Thanks for the tea, Xenophilius. We'll speak later."

He exited the house. It looked much like a rook in a chess set. He checked off 'Lovegood' on his sheet. Three more houses to visit.

Why couldn't they just send letters of assent?

* * *

 **So it is building up! Next chapter will precede Halloween**.


	13. Meeting a King, and the Prince

**Chapter 13 : Meeting the King, and the Prince**

* * *

The Willow shook, as all leaves fell. Cornelius Fudge had been under strict orders from Dumbledore to pull out all Dementors from Hogwarts. So it had been a comparatively warmer autumn than the previous year.

The trio walked towards the cabin, where smoke was coming out of the chimney in alternating puffs. The last sloping grounds were freshly watered, and that meant Filch was nearby. They got to the cabin, as they saw the Hippogriff pens empty in the other corner, nearer to the forest. Some tubs were kept outside, filled with some foul smelling slimy material. Harry peeked through the window. He backed off suddenly, as Fang bounded up at him, and started spreading his saliva on the window pane. Hermione looked around, as she saw some red painted crates around in the ground below the left window. Looking at the side, it had 'Manticore eggshells' accompanied by a 'toxic', and a 'Do not touch without Dragonhide Gloves' warning sign, and another side marked with a 'Choking Hazard' stamp. Hermione suppressed a smile, and watched, as Ron knocked at the door.

It swinged open before Ron began calling. He then entered the interior, where numerous boxes and cans along with three suitcases at stages of packing were strewn out. "Where is he going now?" As Ron opened one of the barrels near the stove, there was a whiff of gasoline, along with a red faced coughing Ron. "What was that bloody thing?"

"It says Dragon brain suspension in an infusion of Giant cockroach tissue fluid . I don't know any use for it, though..."

Harry entered the cabin, and closed the door, not locking it. Then he peered through the window at the back, as Fang sat down, lolling his head sideways. "Filch is out there. Without Hagrid as a Professor now, he will surely take us to Snape. Check before going out."

Fang crawled near Ron and started licking the hem of his robes. "Yuck, stop that!" They were in normal clothes, except for Ron, who had just served for an extra hour with Flitwick for not getting the Summoning charm right and so, had his robes on.

He pulled at the knee, as Fang drooped his face, going back to his bed. Hagrid had made something that looked like a pile of cushions for Fang to sleep on. "Look at this. More Flobberworms. " " No, there are not for usage in Potions, they are already dead and canned. You will need fresh 2 inch long flobberworms for even the Burn curing Draught."

Harry ignored Hermione, as he took some of the tea from the table. Hagrid's flask was broken, and so was a cup. Hermione commented that she did not want a tea. The kettle was still hot, so Hagrid must have gone just some time ago. Harry poured a cup of tea for himself, as he motioned Ron to look out for Filch. As Ron looked out the windows, as Hermione scribbled a note to Hagrid saying he was not in the house when they came, and that they took the liberty of drinking some tea.

"Hey Harry, was the kettle full when you took it? "

"Yeah."

"Why would Hagrid make tea, and go without drinking it?"

"Maybe he made it for Fang. What? Just joking, you know lightening the mood." said Ron. "You laugh your wits out for every joke made by everybody except me. How is that possible-"

The door opened, as Hagrid peeked in. "Come on out, you three. I knew ye would come."

Hagrid took them for a walk towards the Forbidden forest. Ron whimpered, but tagged along.

* * *

The room stank. It was too old. There were the usual jars aligned at the sacred pedestals, as Bill Weasley made his way to the glorious antechamber, the one dedicated to the King himself.

The two sphinxes sat at the entrance to the King's welcoming room. The King sat on his throne, behind which was the concealed entrance to the royal bed chambers, and usually the sarcophagi of His servants were placed there.

"Enter, friend." Said the King. The heiracosphinxes did not move, and they allowed passage to Bill.

As soon as he heard that Mummies were to be used in the tournament, he had decided that Ramses must be the best option to ask. King Ramses' body had been saved from the hands of a group of burglars recently, and his Ankh had been taken possession of, and hence he was responsible for the 85 Goblins killed in the lesser branch of Gringotts near Saqquara. The King had personally punished the offenders, but he was charged a mighty remunition by Gringotts, that he had chosen to repay by favours rather than gold.

His Anubis head wearing priests were at the legs of the throne, as he and his wife, looked down at Bill.

"Oh, mighty King Ramses. We, of Gringotts, ask you a particular favour in lieu of a great tournament held at the great school of magick."

Bill waited, while the Egyptian official from their Ministry translated his words, as the scribes noted down the words, accompanied by praises to the king.

Ramses nodded, and beckoned Bill closer. "Does this in any way relate to the summer events of the... wastelands? " the translator looked at the King, and confirmed the word in a short conversation. "Yes, events of the wastelands?"

"No" said Bill." These are more modern traditions, my king. The champions of various schools of magic perform mighty tasks, that give them fame and praise. Sire." He added, just to be courteous.

As the translator said it, the queen asked something, though it was directed at the King. The King told her to say it out loud, or so, Bill figured with the gesturing.

The queen asked it to the translator, and he asked Bill. "What kind of tasks, asks my lady, the queen."

"Like battling various magical creatures and difficult goals. The winners get awarded points for their bravery and the methods they use."

The translator struggled with the words. The King frowned, as the translator turned and asked, "Points. They don't get the word 'points'. Would 'dots' be sufficient to say, or 'scores'?"

"Scores," replied Bill, as the translator said it.

"What can we do to help you?" "We would need the permission to use five mummies for the tournament. They need only be servants of the lowest rank. We shall only use than for this purpose and no other, and shall be returned in full health after the task is completed."

With that, the deal was more or less complete. The King consented, with ten mummies being provided.("Let it be said that King Ramses has no equal in generosity.")

Bill stroked his nose, the smell getting to his guts. Usually bubble head charms were used in mausolea, but not in cases of meeting Lords, for they may get offended at such gestures.

As he exited the tomb, he took a nice long breath of air, getting the smell of decay off his lungs.

"What will those Brits use next, Vampires?" Commented the goblin at the reception, as Bill got back to his room.

* * *

 _He looked up. His worktable was old, but the freezing charm usually worked well enough to place some object in time, even for longer durations in years or centuries._

 _He was working on the other stone. The one that caused a person's family to come back from the dead as mere spirits was a fine plan, with the grandiose name of the Resurrection Stone, being inscribed on the pages of history. But to make one that did quite the opposite, would prove to be strenuous. This stone, might as well be an object of death, rather that the Resurrector. This shall pull out the soul from a body that is near. This would act as a poison, with the antidote being the other stone._

 _A soul pulled out is viscous. It has the texture of some fluid thicker than water, but not oil. The soul thus pulled out, shall roam, in theory, the world, and stay close to the stone of resurrection. But if this stone is created, the only antidote shall be the Resurrection Stone, which draws the soul back to the body. Any single damage to the body when the soul is out, shall, in practicality, kill the being. The soul shall then be in the air, their presence revealed even then by that stone._

 _Creating this stone was not meant as a weapon. It only would draw Albus' attention to insignificant points while the main event was still under conception. Such attacks, involving minimal destruction, would serve as the perfect distractors. That, combined with a kill of two, would make people bow down in submission as he arose. Shifting part of the blame onto the Voldemort person would do good. It would arouse mass panic, while safeguarding him from the search._

 _He took a bite off the block of chocolate, which helped him with concentrating. He removed his monocle, as he switched off the lighter. He removed the drape of the symbol of the Deathly Hallows on the wall. It was all his childish fancy. He now had greater goals. Revenge. Reclaim what was so near his fingertips._

 _He reached the mirror in the older rooms, more specifically, his mother's. He took a long look at his appearence. The shaving that he gave himself in e prison to irritate Dumbledore had been a bit awry. He had to get back to his original looks._

 _After a long bath, with many of the modern accessories used to decorate oneself, stolen from a nearby muggle store by more of his automatons. He chose to use his automatons for most of the purposes, since his operations were mostly targeted on the wizarding populace. Usage of the controlled muggles was mostly for a single purpose. To instigate wars in their midst._

 _He fell on the bed, wearing fresh clothes, smelling loads better. He saw that a good long comfortable sleep was in order._

* * *

"He casts the Unforgivables on us. What is he? It is not correct, it is not even legal."

"Cool down, Mione. The class was like BLAM. He just cast the curse on us, and we all were puppets, dancing to his tune. Do you have to oppose everything, Harry? Just go on with the flow." Said Ron.

"Are you kidding? Harry was the only one who was good enough to stand up against that foul curse. But look at this. He has given us the same homework he gave the seniors."

"Does that mean we can copy it from Fred and George?" Hermione mocked punching him on the shoulder. "Just kidding, Mione, we only copy from you, you know that. Don't worry." Harry and Ron grinned, while Hermione frowned indifferently.

Their couches at the common room were occupied by McLaggen, and they were not foolish enough to start a scuffle with him. They just took the seats on the side near the notice board, and started working on their Charms essay. It was a long one, especially considering the serious principles of summoning, and banishing, more complex because it concerned some other person's property sometimes. Summoning another person's wand, in example, would not work unless you have already won it by conquest. After all the hard work of Hermione was laid out on their sheets of parchment, albeit with different wordings, they got up to see their couches getting free from McLaggen and his fifth year cronies.

"Hey Hermione, fancy a visit to the library? I need to check if whatever Hagrid is doing- with breeding those Manticore hybrids- Is legal or not. It sounds fishy. We may need to save him before one of them eats him up."

"You are coming to the library with me? That is new, Harry!"

"You, Harry? Going to the library? We're gonna see a blue moon, folks!" Said Ginny as she passed them.

"Shut up Ginny. We have got Potions after lunch. Better prepare ourselves for Snape's torture, rather than wasting our time in the library." Ron looked at them expectantly.

"Oh, then we'll see it in the evening, Mione. I have a bet with Ron. He said Grease will comment on me in the first twenty minutes, while I say he will have done it in the first five."

"I would rather have you watch your tongue and stop losing our house points. We don't have to keep on winning by our last minute point distribution that Dumbledore does for Gryffindor to win. We should win by our normal deeds. Not because we stamp over YKW or Dementors... WHAT Ginny, why are you laughing?"

"You said Oy Kay double you. You are infested with Nargles, you are."

"Shut it, Ginny, I'm being serious. All the points you all earn, Harry loses it all by remarking on Snape and then he makes for all of it by doing something heroic. It is like..."

"He makes up for it, doesn't he. That is what matters. Anyways Snape is going to dock points for Harry's very existence, you can't argue with Harry for hating him."

"Yeah, Hermione. He docks it off us two, you get it? Us two." Said one of the twins, grinning, holding up two of his fingers in a V.

"Oh, I'm going. Bye, you all. Come to class before it's too late, you two-" he pointed at Harry and Ron, "-or else-"

"-Snape will dock us points for that too, Hermione, we get it. Go." Said Harry, grinning.

* * *

Snape stood in front, and frowned at all. With Minerva placing her Gryffindors with the Slytherins yet again, he was indeed anticipating another wreckage from Longbottom and a futrther irritating Draco. Draco never understood. He may like him, but he was supposed to be fair to all. With Draco commenting at Potter, Granger and the other lions, he was finding it difficult to silence Draco even when he uttered swear words.

And Potter's response lost Gryffindor a further point.

"All of you have entered your fourth year. The grading shall be more strict. And only the best shall end up in your OWL year for Potions. Some of you, " his eyes rested upon the second to the last row of Gryffindor's , including Thomas and Finnigan, "lack the mastery over patience, that is essential for Potions."

"There's the rhyme scheme Fred asked the Sorting hat for." The giggling Weasley got a whack over the head.

"Spill an ounce of the concoction of Willis, and you shall set up this lab in flames. That especially is directed at you, Mister Longbottom, though I will be surprised if you got the concoction correct in the first place. No whispering Mister Finnigan and that would be ten points from Gryffindor. "

"Now. This is a simple way to brew the solution that yields the capsule of Gamp. State Gamp's law in elementary transfiguration for me, Mister Thomas."

Dean stated it, while Snape completed his statement.

"-with several exceptions, but we do not worry about that now. As such, there is an amount of wand waving to the otherwise mind numbingly simple procedure, which requires concentration- Get up Potter!"

Harry stood, his hand on his ear. He was just mimicking Snape losing his hair to the twins, and got caught.

"Twenty points for disrupting the class." Snape went close to his ear and said "I know what you were talking about, and you know that it merits a detention." "Yes. ... Professor."

"Silence. This wand waving has to be in the same helical direction, spiralling above to circling at the rim of the cauldron in two stirs. Homework. Essay on how the wand motion helps and a note on the best kind of wand wood for purposes in potion making. As you all must know, it is Willow, but the reasoning gets a point."

"I have a work to be completed in my office, and any happening must be reported. Do not, I repeat, do not spill the solution of Willis. Instructions," he waved and it was on the board, on one side with the procedure for the making of the solution of Willis, and the other depicting its usage in the main potion, along with every precaution necessary."are put up on the board, and those who follow it correctly shall get the capsule. A blob of slime, or a single rod of stone may be obtained if the process goes wrong, but that is acceptable. Go on, carry on with the work."

They all scraped he notes on their books, as Hermione whispered to Neville. "Fascinating, isn't it? He knows each mistake that can happen in this process, at knows where it might happen." "Hermione, one more good thing about Snape, and I shall throw up. In your cauldron." She made a face at Ron, then instructed Neville on the preliminary preparations of the potion sample, which had to be done on the underpart of the cauldron, with sawdust from teak wood shavings simmering in water.

Neville was a lot more good at this when Snape was not around. He was intently concentrating on his solution, as there was a commotion at the tables behind him.

Draco and Harry started a fight by the middle of the class, with Harry taking the last eight drops of the Permanganate in his cup, (Goyle had poured his on Crabbe following a hit to his face, that had reduced the available quantity of solution.) Malfoy grabbed for the solution, while Ron sabotaged his ingredients by cutting the tail of Malfoy's salamander before he came. Malfoy went to Snape and asked for another bottle of Permanganate, and then came to see that the salamander he had put in, had swollen to the size of an average sized cat, inside the cauldron. He picked the remnants of the tail from his desk, and dropped it in, seeing the salamander go back to normal. He stuck out his tongue at Ron, who was sniggering the whole time.

When Snape came back, Malfoy and Hermione were the ones who had something to show. Harry, Seamus and Goyle got the stone rod, while Ron and many others still had the potion. "I suppose you all forgot the wand waving bit. Anyways. Submit a sample of your potion, along with reasons why you went wrong. We have another Ten more minutes that should be sufficient for this task. Do it."

Neville was standing next to his cauldron, his eyes in amazement. He raised his capsule, as Snape was shocked. "Very good Mister Longbottom. Well that is a first. Hurry up, you all. Complete the rest of the work, and get out of the room."

"Wow, Neville how did you get that. Snape, congratulating a Gryffindor, that is unheard of." "You rock, Nev!" "He said very good. He was amazed at you, Neville."

"Hermione helped." Said Neville in a small voice. "No I didn't, I just guided you. You did the work fully. Don't try being modest, Neville. You just needed some space and quiet for doing it. Without Snape inserting his nose in, you are quite a good potioneer."

Ron was in the corner, looking sad. After everybody asked him, he replied weakly."How could Malfoy get his potion correct? I did by best to prevent that from happening."

* * *

 **Next chapter in progress**.


	14. Lectures, Speeches and a Capture

**Chapter 14: Lectures, Speeches and a Capture**

* * *

Announcement

The delegations from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and Durmstrang Institute shall arrive at the school in the evening of this Thursday, and hence, all classes are suspended on that day.

Please maintain decorum at the ceremony of the beginning of the Triwizard tournament.

The Great Hall will be expanded for further accommodation, and lunch shall be provided at your respective common rooms.

All students must assemble at the Great Hall for the grand feast at night.

The Goblet of Fire shall be brought forth on Monday, Halloween, and the week following that shall be open for willing participants to enter their names.

Fifth, Sixth and Seventh years shall assemble tomorrow morning for A briefing session of introduction to the Triwizard tournament at the Seventh year's Charms classroom in the third floor.

Signed, Professor Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Dated: 25th October, 1994

* * *

"Busy day, huh? With all this tournament business going on, work has become twenty times multiplied. I haven't seen our department work overtime like this, and trust me, I'll sure be glad when this gets over. Legislation office is laughin' at us. Hey! Bertha! Long time no see! Where've you been?"

"What is the name of this clown?" I ask. She does not reply.

"Um, I .. I need to see Ludo... where is he?" She asked, with uncertainty.

"Oh, he went off for the day. That old scarecrow took the day off, and we are struggling with his pile up too. Head of department has his perks all right. Today's Tuesday, right? He's got that feast at Hogwarts on Thursday to look for, and we all are gonna celebrate Reggy's birthday. You know, Cattermole? From maintenance? Never mind, we'll get you. You aren't going to Hogwarts with the HoD, are you?"

"I'm planning on."

"Funny, I wouldn't have put it up on you. You got that dunking into the thestral's water trough by Rosenbloom in our sixth year, remember? Young James Potter got a good laugh at that. You were in year seven, weren't you? Our Gossipgirl. You hated Hoggy Warts didn't ya?"

"Nope. It was my favorite place as a teen. So, where can I find Ludo?"

"He would be home. I heard he got into some trouble with Hardbow, his account manager... Where are you going?"

Bertha and I walk away. I hate gossiping.

The atrium is crowded, more so because of the foreign delegations visiting at this time. They mostly are dealt with by the Department of International Cooperation, but many also meet the Minister for petitions. There was a recent petition for the Tournament to be cancelled in lieu of its nomenclature. TriWizard apparently was against the mindset of the Society of Witches for welfare and equality. When within Bertha, I can not voice my opinions in this matter. When in Rome, you need not behave as a Roman, but just stop swearing at Rome if you want to survive. Another petition that was currently in discussion was one for inclusion of the local Suburban School for The Whiz in your House into the tournament. The ridiculousness makes me laugh.

We move across the Floo offices, while Bertha shifts her direction. She goes through the arch, and meets somebody named Gwendolyn. "I need to check if Ludo is available. Can you connect to his Floo?"

"Sure."

"Hey, do you think people take to glasses well? I wear those when not at work, but it looks like I need to wear them here too. My eyesight is worsening."

"Nope. You are not gonna lose your looks for looking, girl. Don't. Ludo Bagman?"

"Yeah. Bagman. I figured you'd say that for glasses. Hey! Ludo? Can I come over there? I have something to discuss."

"Not now, Bertha. I am... occupied now. What's it?"

"Can I come for the inauguration of the tournament? When you're going? On thursday?"

"Yes, sure. Whatever." He cut the call.

"He sounds busy, dear." Gwen said with an odd look on her face.

"Yes.. oh. No. No way. Yuck. I'm not interested in him or anything. How can you think like that?"

She rolls her eyes.

"Women." I say.

Bertha ignores me and the woman, and leaves the Ministry via the other entrance.

* * *

"These transformations are mostly inanimate to animate. Objects to animals. Giving life for temporary time periods would be an exception to the preliminary agreements of transfiguration. Which law states that this can be a situation where those agreements can be excluded from? Mister MacMillan?"

Hermione raised her hand, while Ernie said the correct answer. Hermione dropped her hand, while McGonagall continued.

"Yes, Merlin's second law states clearly that life giving, when temporary, can be done at the molecular level, while clearly differentiating between animation and Life giving. Five points to Hufflepuff. What is the difference? Miss Granger?"

Hermione was practically leaping with her hand raised.

"Animation is only concerned with temporary awakening of an object, that performs the action that the caster commands it. It is usually done with a charm. For example, the Piertotum Locomotor, which causes beings made of stone to wake up for some suggested duty. On the other hand, the transfiguration from an object to something animate, would be done with transfiguration for one thing, and will also make the animal of choice move to its own will and feel pain of its own accord."

"Very good, Miss Granger, take twenty points to Gryffindor. I couldn't have put it better. Two points from Gryffindor for mimicking that yawn, Mister Weasley, it was not even legitimate. Now, we shall begin with a simple change. Pincushions to porcupines. First visualise the change. You will have to invert the spiked edges of the pins to face outwards. Then, convert the front to the facial region with all the features that you would imagine of a porcupine. The underpart would not prove much of a problem because there is not much difference to it. Smoothness is ideal. Now repeat after me. _Factorum Spica."_

Hers turned to a porcupine that scuttled around the table.

All of them tried, but none of them got it in the first try. "Professor, is it factotum or factorum?" Asked Hermione, as McGonagall replied with "Factorum, my dear. Factorum spica."

"Oh, that's why." She said, and promptly cast it on her pincushion, converting it into a porcupine. "Good, miss Granger. Ten more points to Gryffindor. Let me see you attempt it, Mister Longbottom." She went around, making all of them demonstrate it. Harry got it on the eighth time, with Hermione nodding in appreciation.

With another essay on their heads, they all went Care of Magical creatures. Hagrid had been better than Geubbly-Plank in one aspect. Hagrid never gave homework.

* * *

"Good thing that tomorrow is suspended. I wonder if we get holidays for all of the tasks too. That would be good."

"I would agree." Said Hermione. Both the boys stared at her. "You say that? Who are you, and what have you done to our Hermione?"

She looked at Ron in exasperation, and said."Last year, I had a variety of classes. But I feel as if the classes are spaced out but monotonous this year. It is not a good difference. And also, my OWL preparations are halted because of the incident at the library." Filch 'accidentally' spilled cleaning fluid on the Reference section of the library, thanks to somebody, anonymous but known to have dreadlocks and a tarantula.

"That, with Moody casting the Imperius on us, while commenting on it as a repulsive and sickening curse. I get his intentions, but not the need to use it on us. I hope we have some theoretically oriented classes." Continued Hermione.

"Yeah, we missed Moody's class. Why can't the other schools come on a Friday and cut Snape's class? Double potions with the snakes just after the enjoyment of the inauguration." Lamented Ron.

"Hey, you three!" Lavender came in through the Fat Lady. "They have called us all for a session. Something to do with manners and behaviour. All Gryffindors have to stay in the Common Room." She announced this to all. "When?" Asked Colin Creevey.

"Whenever McGonagall is coming in. She said it is something to do with those foreigners coming on Thursday."

"Duh. Anyways, we weren't planning on going anywhere, were we?" Ron grinned and sank further into the couch.

"No." Said Harry, as he fell back, and was snoring in no time. Hermione went to the Girl's dormitory.

* * *

Shacklebolt stumbled at the chair. He had spotted one of the greatest deals in Wizarding Britain, and he was not about to let it go. The man in front waved a chubby hand at him in mockery, and morphed into a ... rat.

"'Petrificus'. 'Stupefy' oh, what the hell was the freezing charm... " " 'Animagus reverti'" The rat twitched, and morphed. "Oh, I just said something in Latin and it worked, sir!"

"Good work, Herring." "So we have a dead man here. What do we do?" "I beleive we ought to check if what ... a reliable source told me was true. Strip him!"

The man whimpered, as the multiple shirts he wore were torn off. He had a cloth looped around his forearm. Kingsley ripped it off with a cutting charm, as the man screamed in horror. His attempts to escape were stopped by the wards in place, thanks to Nymphadora.

"Oh my God. The mark. Then, was Black -"

"Tie him up. Request a trial for this... this man in the Wizengamot. The mark could be sufficient proof, but ask for a full criminal trial anyway."

"You caught him Shackles. Believe me, you will be Minister in a few years, after old Fudgey goes off. Congratulations!"

"Come to the office, Kingsley, we're arranging a party for you. Good thinking, using muggle exchanges to call for the Muggle relations office instead of revealing yourself."

"Ask them to not subject him to the Kiss too fast. We need to know what he was thinking, coming back to Britain."

"No. No. I was framed. No!" "Shut up, you pig. You are supposed to be dead, and any more talk, you will really be so."

"NOOO!" He screamed, as the CrippleCage was brought in. It was inspired from a former muggle magic show, adapted to hold people in detention with locks on magic, especially wandless.

* * *

"The great founders of our school, Hogwarts, had grown to such fame and nobility, that their school grew to international recognition and respect. In the year of Eleven hundred,-"

"It is called a Thousand and a hundred sir. Year one thousand one hundred."

"Mister Belby, please let me speak. In that year, the very first Headmaster of Hogwarts, the beloved one, whose name has been long lost to history, with his last portrait hit by a permanent silencing charm in the 14th century."

The classroom accommodated the entire three batches of students. It had the view of the Quidditch pitch by the left side windows. A teacher, whom the seventh years recognised as the usual Apparation instructor, was pacing the front, as some Hufflepuffs sent a paper bird fly to the front, pelting him with bits of paper. He twitched his wand, and it hit the wall.

"Listen please. That Headmaster had the great idea to hold a tournament that boosted international union and cooperation, with a chance to unite Magical brethren, and dousing the world with peace and prosperity." Flint imitated vomiting.

"All three schools, Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, were united at the first Triwizard tournament, when it faced severe opposition from the local magical academies, which had not, unfortunately, gained such importance. In the first tournament, we observe this in the journals of a Mister Stratus, a wealthy reporter of a long lost line, as 'the clutches of Gorgons, fearsome and loathesome, do the champions compete.' Oh, please Serene, give me the translated version. These curls in the script. Ugh. ..."

"The capture of the Stymphalian Birds, in a never before attempted way from the ceiling, and the greatest champion had to wrestle a fully grown Mountain troll for the claim to the great reward of the Triwizard cup, made out of clear cut glass, Basilisk skin, and scales of the common Wyrm."

"This was organised in the interests of Professor Godric Gryffindor, whose romanticism in regards to Greek mythology was well noted by historians. There were javelins to be thrown at the mountain troll, and it witnessed the victory of the champion, who had to resort to aiming the soft tissue of the Troll at the groin."

The Gryffindors gave a well coordinated 'Ooooh'. Twycross frowned and continued.

"Wish Hermione were here. She would have taken notes for us. He is just reading out the presentation." said George, Fred nodding.

"The subsequent years had multiple changes, with the most remarkable being the decision of the centaur committee to be excluded from such activities, and the merpeople volunteering for helping in the match of 1456. The tournament also witnessed a major change in 1521, when the final task was made available to all. During the advent, the first and second tasks determined the winner, but after the insistence of the Durmstrang Headmaster, after their competitor lost the 18th time in a row, the final task was made available to all three champions, the final task being decisive, under the chief guest's special vote. This was another new addition to the tournament after the final task. For impartial decisions, the chief guests were usually nominated, but after a few years, countries seeking financial support made the French win twice, and the British once, that this idea was vetoed by the Durmstrang Headmaster of that period."

A great snore pierced the air, as Flitwick was sleeping behind the standing blackboard. Twycross tried biting his tongue hard to ignore it, as another snore came out. He glanced at the students, who didn't even bother to laugh, as most of them were sleeping too.

"Another major change was the making of this tournament a centennial event, due to financial crisis at the medieval times. The greatest disaster that caused the tournament to be temporarily halted, was the attack of the cockatrice in the 125th Triwizard tournament. With a lethal gaze, the cockatrice still remains classified with five stars under Ministry guidelines, with breeding grounds only legal under permission for cockatrice egg derived delicacies. Those too, were proved to be high in mercury concentration and are now banned in Britain."

"Now, if you all will please move to the next room, we have the instructions, which are preliminary only, because the tasks will be surprise ones. Go on, now. I know you all were sleeping. I don't care. You will have to care when you get in for Apparation training, you jackasses."

* * *

"The Beauxbatons Carriage!" Shouted Pansy Parkinson, from the raised windows on the second floor corridor. Hogwarts had adopted an open air architectural stylisation near the Ravenclaw side of the castle, and it projected forward, with a open balcony, with Corinthian pillars supporting it. This was historically claimed to be Rowena Ravenclaw's addition to the school. God tic had also contributed, by a large graffiti on the corridor behind, exclaiming "Salazar Sucks." Thus said, it was usually avoided by Slytherins, except on romantic dates, when this was a favourite spot, overlooking the western Grounds, and also the Black lake's extension, featuring a magnificent sunset.

The carriage was pulled by large horses, the size of double your average horse. This became evident when they landed, standing tall near Hagrid's height. Dumbledore went forward, and welcomed the figure emerging. The figure stretched tall, and was standing at double as high as Dumbledore, who smiled and kissed her hand, with a bow, while talking something inaudible at the second floor.

They saw a great swarm of Broomsticks in the air at the eastern side. The giant squid thrashed its tentacles in the air, and with a streak on the lake's surface, the tentacle fell. The riders were coming down, in a formation of a shield or a pentagon. It was not so clear from their and the tall lady approached the landing site from the northern side. The riders now looked more like a shield as they approached the ground.

The riders landed at the ground, where the man at the point of the shield, who was wearing excessive fur coats, two of which he handed over to the student behind him, moving forwards, and greeting Dumbledore with a hug and an enthusiastic wave at the students from the second floor balcony. They waved at him too.

They all climbed down, as the doors of the Great Hall swung open. The hall was really expanded now. It had drapes of all three schools hung on the sides, with the Hogwarts coat of arms behind the staff table in a grand and imposing manner.

The staff table was split by the middle, with arching arcs on either side for faculty, and three throne like chairs in the middle for the headmasters.

The students filed in, as there were two extra rows added to the front in curves, and the house tables now were radially placed, giving it the appearence of an amphitheater. The staff portion was considerably raised, and it held the look of a stage more prominently.

As the students of Hogwarts filled in, they saw their seats with tags by their sides, with house name and year mentioned. They took their seats in oreder, the first years getting the front rows. Dumbledore entered the hall, as a red carpet rolled over magically. It was so richly decorated, and made of such fine velvet, that you could practically feel it while sitting four feet away. At least, that was how Harry felt.

He took his seat in the fourth row on the right side, with 'Gryffindor, Year Four' written in neat curly script was tagged on.

There were no tables arranged for food, and only covered and cushioned chairs were present, just for viewing, and Harry suspected it was all formality.

"Don't worry Ron, there might be a buffet." Said Hermione.

* * *

 **This chapter was originally twice as long, but I decided to crop it before the speeches of Dumbledore and the others. The buffet is incoming.**

 **Please Review.**


	15. Lectures, Speeches and a Capture cont

**Chapter 15: Lectures, Speeches and a Capture** \- continued...

* * *

Sonorus'. "Welcome, Welcome! A fine evening, dear students of Hogwarts, and all our magical brethren. Please welcome, Madame Olympe Maxime, Headmistress of the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic."

With a moderate cheer, Madame Maxime raised her Goblet.

"With her, the delegation from Beauxbatons, Academy of Magic, Hogwarts welcomes you."

Dumbledore tilted his face, and looked above his half-moon glasses. His eyes twinkled, as the students from Beauxbatons filed in, clad in sky blue uniforms, with elegant capes.

"I see Veela!" Exclaimed Ron, as Hermione hit him over the head. With Harry hastily wiping his glasses on his robes, Hermione struck him too, as he muttered "Ow, Hermione. Stop it."

Their chairs had cup holders, and as soon as Dumbledore started his speech, they had been occupied by cups, with clear liquid. "I've read about this. You say clearly what drink you want, and it changes to that. It was developed by some witch who got inspired by the idea of tea bags."

"Tea bags might put Trelawney out of business." Said Ron. Hermione chuckled, as she asked for Butterbeer. Harry asked for the same, as Ron glanced at them with a mischievous look. "Will it, you know... do alcoholic?"

Hermione shushed him, as Ron said "Firewhiskey" under his breath.

"And now, we welcome professor Igor Karkaroff, an old friend of mine, Headmaster of the Durmstrang Institute. With him, the delegations from his school. Welcome!"

"Harry! Harry.. look, it's Krum!" Said Ron, with the Fire whiskey spilling down his robes, trickling down his chin.

"Yuck, Ron. Oooh. It is really Krum!"

"Quit fawning. He is just another sportsperson, nothing special." Ron just ignored her, as he stared at Krum, and the Quidditch legend just wore his famous scowl as he walked to the front, and took the front row seats for the competing students of the schools. The rest of the Durmstrang students just split across the middle, and occupied the seats in the back.

"I knew he was young, but still at school? He's a prodigy!"

"Wow Weasley, I didn't imagine you knowing these big words." Malfoy was in the row behind them, in a seat two seats right to Hermione's corresponding seat in that row.

Before they could strike at Malfoy with a scathing reply, Dumbledore boomed again. "The Goblet of Fire will be brought in on the day of Halloween. Students are advised to take part in the name casting without cutting your classes. The Goblet shall be left open for all week. Taking part in the tournament shall invoke the law of optional educational qualities, and hence the champions will be excluded from thir yearly school exams. NEWT level perfection will be detected by the great Goblet, and you shall be eligible for the highest graded offices in the ministry too, with a special trust fund from our ministry. This applies to Hogwarts students only, and I request the others to be instructed by their own school-" Dumbledore turned, to see Madame Maxime nodding her head, and Karkaroff with a wierd smile. Karkaroff's teeth were an ugly yellow. "-Headmasters. Now, let us not further delay the urges that are sent by our stomachs, and indulge ourselves in food, and bathe our tongue in delight. Thank you."

Snape came to the front, and dictated. "Students are requested to move to the right side, and enter the buffet hall. Please feel free to talk with your _brethren_ and _indulge._ " His voice dripped anger. He said those words as if he was substituting Gilderoy Lockhart.

"Rather tame, isn't he? Nothing like Blubber tweak kid of fun, when others are around to see his oddity." Said Ron. "Anyways, I'm starving. The morning delivery of those sandwiches was not enough."

"You skipped lunch in wait for the evening feast, Ron, you told us that already." commented Seamus as he crossed them on the way to the buffet hall.

* * *

"Good thing the teachers aren't here. Look at that. Dean has made friends." Dean was lifting some girl from Beauxbatons in front of a gaggle of Ravenclaw third years. The girl was laughing hysterically and when Dean put her down, she picked up the platter of sweet chilli sauce on his face. The Ravenclaws giggled, as Dean laughed and licked the sauce near his mouth. In a distance, at the more meaty side of the buffet, Krum was giving signed photos to a mixture of girls, both from Hogwarts and Beauxbatons.

The Great Hall was actually multiples ten times in size. They had only seen part of it for the inauguration ceremony. The actual part was here. Five rows of food stalls, stretching across the width of the hall, with a massive spiralling fountain at the centre, with a swivelling conveyor belt like arrangement, serving salads. Circular tables with tablecloths that cleaned themselves of any dirt were arranged in a floral design, and all in all, it proved Harry that the professors of Hogwarts had a good taste.

Hermione scoffed, as she picked an assorted lot of all vegetarian food into her plate. Ron had taken all the fatty ones he could find, while Harry brought an extremely exotic plate. "I haven't tried all these. Usually we get the dishes in the feast, but they are the standard ones. I love all those cakes and burgers, but I thought of getting a new taste on my tongue."

"That is Korean." Hermione pointed at the corner of his plate, where something crispy and saucy was sitting. "Don't remember the name. Unpronounceable." He came to sit, placing the plate on the table.

" May I take this chair?" A girl who looked like a Veela was asking as Harry pulled his robes near the knees to sit.

"Yes you may." Said Ron, with the fizzy drink dripping over his robes now. "No. Sorry, a friend of ours is coming. Ron, Neville said he will come, what are you-Harry?" Harry had given the chair off to the Veela girl. Hermione scowled, and went off, asking that girl politely for the chair in French.

"How are you, my dear friend? Asked Krum. He had come to their seat, following Hermione's take off. "Hey, Mister Krum! Nice to meet you!" Said Harry. Ron hit Harry's knee with his, jerking his head towards Krum. "This is my friend, Ron Weasley." "Nice to meet you." Said Ron. Krum nodded. "Which year do you study, Harry? And please call me Victor." "Fourth."

Neville moved towards their table, his hands holding his plate. The moment he saw Krum, he moved in the other direction, as far away from them as possible, avoiding all attention.

"Why... How...many years have you been playing Quidditch for?" Harry was about to ask why they had come in brooms instead of a better way. It was very hard to keep your underparts on a broom for more than two hours. Cross country travel was... well. Uncomfortable. He changed the question midway, as he saw Malfoy throwing an ugly look at their table.

"Since before I joined school. The Headmaster noticed me and recommended me for good positions in the national team. It is hard to be in fame. People never let you alone."

"Harry knows about fame a lot, Victor... Krum.. Mister Krum." Stammered Ron, as Krum smiled. "Yes, defeating a Dark lord as a child is aahsome. You have been featured in many books, Harry Potter."

Hermione returned, with the chair, of course, as she placed it for herself and took her seat. She dragged her plate from in front of Krum's seat, to her place. Her face was inexpressive. "This is Hermione. Hermione Granger." "Nice to meet you, Hermoi-nee." "Hermione." "Her-mayon-e." "Close enough. What do you think, Hermione?" She held a poker face as she went on to sit with the French girl from whom she got the chair back from, dragging the chair in one hand, plate in the other.

"The spaghetti is very nice. Hoo cooks here?" Asked Krum. "House elves. The kitchens are full of them." Krum shrugged, with a frown. "Veeird, they do not cook this well in our school."

* * *

( **Translated from French due to two reasons: Firstly, This story is in English, and Secondly, I don't know French good enough to write a proper conversation in it.)**

"Yes, Boys, I know right. Always thinking of girls and games. I get fed up of them." Said Fleur Delacour. The French girl who had taken the chair from them had introduced Hermione to her friends. This girl, Fleur Delacour, had actually been part Veela from her mother's side, while the other one had simply been beautiful enough that the boys thought she was Veela.

Hermione selected the Sprouts and began eating them. The boys were soon engulfed in a gaggle of girls requesting autographs, along with Colin Creevey sporting his camera. "If you are vegetarian, try some of the Indian recipes over there. Your school likes to show off by making all these fancy dishes."

"Okay" said Hermione, unsure of whether to reply to that second comment. "Do your professors come with you? Because I only saw the headmistress..." she trailed off. "No, our professors have taken the second carriage. They will come after the second week of November. They plan to leave us free for these weeks. In peace."

"Are you participating in this tournament Miss Delacour?"

"Call me Fleur-" Just then, there was a scuffle in the middle, as Ernie Macmillan tore through, Gayle pushing him across. "What are you thinking? Why do your bullies pick up Ernie's food wherever he is?" Shouted Susan, while Malfoy remained silent, arms folded, as he watched the spectacle. Ernie picked himself from the ground, and raised his arms in a sign of defense. Crabbe planted his head onto Ernie's stomach, with which Ernie fell backwards, howling in pain. Hermione saw Harry and Ron silent in the corner, carefully avoiding the scene, while Krum was asking them something, apparently ignoring the commotion.

"Detention, both of you. Follow me without uttering a single word. Mister Longbottom, please carry Mister Macmillan to the hospital wing." Snape was standing behind Draco, pointing his wand. "Continue eating. My apologies for the disturbance."

Lavender approached Hermione. "Notice how he avoided taking off points? He hasn't changed at all, just being less obvious at what he is doing." "I bet it's Moody he is afraid of."

Malfoy smirked, as Nott and Pansy took over Crabbe's and Goyle's roles as bodyguards to Malfoy. Neville dropped his bowl (he was watching the scene while drinking the soup) on the ground immediately as a response to Snape's call, and went to pick up Ernie, with Seamus helping. The bowl cracked, and soup flowed down the floor, where it magically disappeared, as if melting into the ground. It was a precaution to keep the room clean.

"Eventful." Smiled Fleur as she emptied her cup.

* * *

I bang her fist on the table. I swear. Three more days of wait.

Bagman had left a message. I had been mistaken. The ceremony was indeed on Halloween. Thursday was just the arrival of all those international schools. Inauguration of the tournament was not attended by people of the ministry.

"Voldy, stop kicking MY TOE HURTS damnit!"

I punch the table again in fury.

"Poor Dark Lord, can't wait some more days for your big day? Poor dear." "STOP MOCKING ME." "Duh. Go back to sleep, snakes. You can get to Hogwarts on Monday. Quit the whine."

The day of Halloween it is, then. I shall haunt my home. On the best day for a person to haunt.

"And look here. Bagman has sent you the invite."

 _MOM_

 _Dear Mr/Miss/Mrs Bertha Jorkins_

 _You are cordially invited to the Grand Event of the Unveiling and Lighting of the Goblet of Fire, at the castle of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, on the day of 31st of October, 1994, coinciding with the festival of Halloween . Your presence is highly anticipated._

 _This invitation is sent from the desk of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Please do not reply to this invite. Any inquiries are to be addressed to the desk of Madam Goldberg, senr. attender, dept. intl. mag. coop._

"They didn't bother with the scratching of Mr and Mrs, I see." "Oh, shut up. As if they do care. All these are auto generated. Ludo would have received a similar one too."

"You seem unsure. He is the head of the department, he will surely get a better one."

"Nah, Crouch hates Bagman. He would want Ludo behind bars at any cost. They suspected Ludo to be your servant, you know."

"No, I don't know. Bagman, a servant of mine? Aren't there any good departments? Why would I need a man at the games and sports department?"

"You seem to need a woman."

I stay silent. This woman finds many phrases that work similar to the 'Silencio'.

* * *

 **This is actually part 2 of chapter 14, but it had to be posted as a separate chapter because of me doing some editing in the latter half.**

 **Sorry if this is too short.**


	16. The Problem Under Water

**Chapter 16: The Problem Under Water**

* * *

"An urgent matter is to be delivered to Albus Dumbledore, Bartemius Crouch and also to Azkaban. Would you ask one of the memo decrypters to send these messages over there? Dawlish. The law passed on straightened road spaces for the Knight bus to pass through is mostly just rubbish. Ask the driver, what his name-" "-Ernie, ma'am."

"Yes, send for him. He has to pay the fine for the wastage of time on his accord. Tonks, just get Dolores. She would have to sign in that petition she has filed for introducing the werewolves to corporal punishment in case of bites on unprotected humans, but I doubt it would be accepted. Dumbledore won't allow it. Yet, just ask her to sign... here, and here. She just signed for the last page."

"Madam, about that Pettigrew-" "Yes, I have sent the case to Barty, he was the one who put Black in without a trial, but the blame doesn't fall on him. Pettigrew being alive..." She took off he returned glasses and wiped them with the cloth in her spectacle case.

"Ma'am the Castle twins have come for their wands." "The ones..."

"-which were confiscated for the incident in Surrey, ma'am. The one with the car rentals."

"Oh, yes, they can be returned. The time, it has been a week, hasn't it? I don't know why we bother, they probably have a stash of wands, the number of times they have been accused of doing this..."

Nymphadora walked over to the Senior Undersecretary's office, as the toad like lady walked towards the elevators. "Madam Umbridge!"

"Yes?" She asked in a sickly sweet voice.

"Madam Bones asked me to get your sign in this petition, Ma'am. The legislation would probably be not welcomed by them, though. Here."

She handed over the stapled bunch of sheets, where Umbridge signed with a pink pen. She wore a pink set of robes, over some pink clothing. Nymphadora managed a weak smile as Umbridge returned the file. "Here too, ma'am." She flipped through pages.

"Why didn't you say so before." Umbridge bit her lip, as she signed on the other sheet. "Anything else?" "No mam." As she turned, Umbridge tapped at her back. She swivelled, as the toad grinned. "Miss..." she tilted her head to look at the nameplate."Tonks. I care for the wellbeing of the wizarding society, and I believe some sacrifices are necessary. Whether _they_ like it or not. Understood?" She smiled wide.

"Yes ma'am."

"And inform Amelia that they found a few improper uses in my former office. I would like to have them transferred to the custody of the Aurors."

"Yes I heard. Willy withershins, wasn't it?"

"No, and do not interrupt me when I speak. Withershins was chucked to the Weasel department. I was getting started on Herbert Insomnus. He had performed a wrong charm which made 85 people including 12 muggles to go into permanent sleep. We were bringing in the stresses when two of those muggles died in therapy, and Joseph Selwyn was caught in a comma while investigating. Get him a trial to Azkaban. Selwyn's a relative."

Umbridge did not come above the level of Tonks' have her ordering around was truly painful.

"Is there any scheduled appointment for the minister on Monday? Madam Bones wanted to confirm if he indeed was attending the tournament-" "Yes. Now go off. I have to get a cup of tea." Umbridge moved to the elevator, her pink robes not reaching the knees of her clothing. Tonks' grinned. The woman was wearing high heels and still didn't manage to reach five feet or so in height.

* * *

"Professor Dumbledore. Our students would need arrangements for stay. Unfortunately, we were unable to commandeer the Imperator. It would have served fit as a campsite. And arrangements... It would be better if the location was outdoors, preferably well aerated, instead of the musty odour in this castle."

"Yes, Igor, with the circumstances, I can guarantee you a grand setup by the passage from the castle to Hogsmeade. That way, you will get proper access to the greatest wizarding community of the entirety of Britain." Dumbledore said cheerfully.

"Ze horzes are Abraxan, my dear Dumbeldorr. They would drink nothing but-" "Yes mam, we will have our Keeper of the Keys to take care of them perfectly. He is a great lover of such magnificent beasts."

"Oh, Mister Hagrid? Quite ze gentleman."

"Glad you like him, Madame.

Snape joined the procession of the three Headmasters going towards the gargoyles. "Severus! Good to see you, my friend." Igor smiled, the same toothy one. "Hello, Igor. Professor Dumbledore, could we speak for a minute, sir? In private?"

"Now is hardly the minute, Severus. Please excuse me, Headmaster, Headmistress." he nodded at them both. "Please proceed to my office. The password is Cockroach Cluster. Ah, he heard it." He exclaimed, as the gargoyle swung to open the spiral staircase.

"I'll be there in a minute."

"Professor. They were calling. I went to give those fat idiots of my house a good detention, Crabbe and Goyle, and I saw them. They screeched, I didn't understand, but their waving seemed urgent."

"What happened?" "I told you, they waved-" "No, for giving them detention on a fine day like this?"

"They broke Mister Macmillan's kneecap. At the feast. Now this is hardly the important task at the mo-"

"I am coming, Severus. I just would have to inform our esteemed guests to extend their wait a bit longer."

"What are going to tell them?" "Nothing. Just that I am going. And would be back in an hour at most."

He went in, and returned in sometime, with a change of hat. "Is the hat really necessary?" Severus opted a tone of disapproval. "Yes, my boy. The one before it had a hole on the side of the hem. Surely you noticed..."

Dumbledore ran down the corridor. Severus shook his head. The old man was seriously fast.

Grubbly Plank peeked out of the staff room, as they went near that corridor. "Ah, I thought it was your voice. Professor Dumbledore, a note addressed to you was sent from the Ministry. It came to the staff room by mistake. Where are you running, Albus! Albus! It's from Amelia!"

He paused, looked back, and told her. "Keep it with you, Wilhemina. I'll come and get it. Don't send it to my office, it's occupied."

* * *

The lake was eerily quiet. Dumbledore whistled, as he went more eastward, in the vague direction away from the giant squid's tentacle at the distant side of the shore.

His whistle was answered with a beautiful head raise out of the water. A hand followed, as it flexed its fingers, in a sign of 'come in'.

As he cast a bubble head charm and entered the water, with an Impervious on his clothes, especially the top of the hat.

"Severus, go back to the castle. I'll come back."

:yes?:

:the queen wishes she could tell it, but the item was not single. two were found, sir:

:two?:

This was hilarious. Even formation of one was medically impossible, with legend describing the one as a single being, with the Great Salazar buying, not making, that single one which had haunted the pages of legend till recent times. The Foul one had grown it on his own. If accounts were found...

:did a girl come to the lake two years ago? any chances of amphibians growing in here? lead me to the lady:

They swam, as Albus went to the surface, and asked Severus to go back.

:my lady. are there any toads, by any chance, found near? it usually takes months for it, but as a chance. I should have suspected this long ago. did a red haired girl collect any of the toads near the lake? two years ago, maybe?:

The one in Hogwarts did not have the plume. It had been harvested for medicinal purposes, when Severus had informed it's gender. But then, there had been no suspicion as to if it had had offspring. It was the only remainder of its species in Britain, maybe even Europe.

:we do not interfere with their populations, albus. there are many toads here. hundreds of students came here before the quarantine. this... it drives us sick, albus. we had to shift it to the cave on the underside of the castle. that's where we found the other. it makes the water sick near it. breaking it will surely kill us:

:yes, the yolk contains toxins. would the squid have to be sent somewhere else? he feels restless:

:we experience bouts of rage, albus. extreme. our males have been chained up on the far corner. hormonal levels were enormous. two men killed. the women are not showing symptom of such magnitude. they ate fish! and the omens point death, betelguese points south. it is time the prophecies come true:

He neared the site. The greenish glow of the inner caverns was shining at them through the stalactites and the draperies. A stone flower, around two metres in diameter was on the floor, the petals colourful with moss. The item in question was on the middle. It was placed there with a net like covering, in a cyan blue.

A crevice passed the ground, nearly tangential to the petals, by arching a bit to a petal with a crack.

:the egg is contained for now. mostly preserved. killing a newborn of any species is a bad omen. but breaking the egg shall spill-:

:yes, I understand. where is the other?:

She looked at Albus as he realised the real reason why he had to come down.

A basilisk egg was somewhere in the lake. And could hatch at any time.

* * *

"She was cute, wasn't she?" Asked Ron, as they went towards the table in which Hermione was sitting. Harry was dumbfound. "What? Hey! Harry?" Harry pointed at the table. A true Veela was sitting there.

"Wow. She is so..." Hermione smiled at them and called them. She introduced them to the girls. All of them had a flair and elegance in their curt nods, and their culinary activities, but the boys only had eyes for one.

Fleur Delacour wiped her hand in the napkin, and her fingers seemed to move in slow motion as they went to her fork and pick it up with a soft and slender grasp. How could a grasp be slender? It looked so...

She ate the French dish, whose name had slipped their tongues. She picked up the plate from another blonde girl, and slid her fork, pushing the meat onto her plate with a swipe. A spot of gravy hit the knuckle of her thumb.

She clicked her tongue, and asked for a finger bowl, as one magically appeared in front of her.

She washed her fingers, delicately. She looked up and sighed at the sight of the drooling boys. She met Hermione's eyes.

With a slap to the thigh, Harry woke. "You. Are. Drooling. Don't stare. It's impolite. Sorry?" She gestured towards Fleur.

"Ah, yes, sorry for staring. My bad. Do you speak, speak English?" He asked hesitantly, as a droplet of saliva from Ron hit his plate.

"Eww. I'm leaving. Thank you Hermione. And yes, Mister Potter, I speak Eenglesh." She went towards the buffet, as Harry woke Ron up.

* * *

The Headmaster returned from the lake an hour later. Removing the bubble and the impervii from his clothing, he went back to the castle. He was shaking from the cold.

It had been long. They had searched for it in the nearest square mile, but had found nothing. The girl who found the second egg was nowhere to be seen. Her original warning call had been responded to, and the discovery was made, while the egg had disappeared, along with the mermaid. A thorough searching had yielded not.

Tired, he made his way through, as he remembered the letter from Amelia.

From a quick detour to the staff room, where all except Severus and Filius had gone a bit drunk. He picked up the letter, waved his farewell, as he ascended the stairs. He saw an ' _urgent'_ on the right side top corner on the letter. As he went near the doors to his room, he had started opening it up. He adjusted his half-moon glasses, as he raised his left hand to knock, while his eyes found a word on the letter, even in the dim light. _Pettigrew._

His hand pushed the door, instead of knocking. He saw Karkaroff on the waiting couch, below the office part, while Madame Maxime was already asleep. "Albus, at long last. Karkaroff made to get up, as Albus gestured him to wait. "Please wait, Igor. I had received an extremely important notice, and I had to check into it. Sorry for keeping you in wait."

He wrote a small note in a cursive, " _Amelia, See you in the morning, Hasten trial period. Albus._ "

He tied it to Fawkes, sending him off in a flash.

He sat on his revolving chair, behind the Headmaster's desk. Most of the Headmasters were asleep, with only Dilys returning from . "Come on then, Igor. Fancy a drink?"

"Ah, yes, please." He looked back. "The Madame fell off too fast. Had a good sleep, but the snores..." He shook his head as he went up the three steps to the office part of the room. He wore an expression of appreciation as he spoke. " Is that a penceive cabinet, Albus? Long since I've seen one."

"Yes, Igor. One of the gifts to the school from Professor Everard. He had a unique career. Always the best. Prefect. Head boy. Only Head boy to get the Quidditch Captaincy in the history of the school, too. Then.. law enforcement. Stopped quite a lot of witch burning in his age too. A fourteen wives. Auror. Head Auror. Minister of Magic. Then, the Headmaster of this great establishment till death. Quite a life, I suppose. And-" he waved his hands for a dramatic effect. "Only human to seen and painted in full consciousness of Babbitty Rabbitty. That sounds a greater praise."

They both laughed. "Ah, I forgot. I will arrange for the stay for your students in an enlarged and properly fitted room in our school premises. I hope you could adjust till the Yule Ball. I can assure you a proper place near Hogsmeade. The castle is under our regulations, and Extension charms don't last long unless properly supplied with a source of power. Preparing Hogsmeade would take long. The settlement is under regulations by the Ministry. So, the forms, the disturbances... it would take time."

"Oh, I'm pleased, Dumbledore. No problems. This castle sounds like it calls for a bit of exploration." He bit his lip, with a smile on the corner of his mouth, and a naughty fire in his eyes. He waved his hands around, as Dumbledore responded."Oh, try your best. It has been a lifetime for me here, and I have hardly the feeling of completely seeing the entire castle."

* * *

 **Author's note: Are the chapters too short?**

 **Please Review, and Thanks for the reviews. Yeah, the first chapter was nothing special, and I hope to make some edits that make it interesting, without changing it too much.**


	17. Halloween: The Call

**Chapter 17 : Halloween**. **Part 1 - The Call**

* * *

"Wake up, Harry. It's Halloween."

"Why do we have to? Lemme sleep, Seamus."

"They organise classes for the morning sessions today, owing to we getting holiday on the day of the drawing."

"Drawing?" "Picking out the champions. That ceremony is on next Monday. They suspended classes on that day, but instead they make up classes today." "So that means the last classes of next Monday come today?"

"No, just Monday morning classes repeat. That's Potions for us, remember? Snape is gonna enjoy murdering us all."

"Ha always does that. Now he is a lot more tame. I believe it's Moody. Snape is afraid of him, I suppose. Being an Auror and all that..."

"Snape is a lot better with me, too. He actually congratulated me on that potion, remember?"

"Stop that, Neville. That was a month ago. Still, it is an achievement for Snape. Only prof to not give points to Mione, isn't he?"

"He didn't give points to Nev, did he? I don't remember..."

"No, he gave one point. One point, folks. Still, Nev's a hero for that."

"Who is coming for the ceremony?" Broke in Dean.

"Crouch, I think. He's head of the organising department. And somebody from the other countries too, I think."

"No, only Crouch is coming, Percy too. He said so in his letters to mom. She wants me to learn more about ministry processing. Hopes to send me there too. She has lost hopes on the twins, it seems."

Lavender was coming up the stairs. "It's getting late. Come on, Snape's class." Said Ron, as Lavender came in, searching their beds, looking for something. "Have any of you seen my Dream diary? I seem to have lost it." She frantically searched the trunks of Seamus and Harry, which were nearby, and open. "Hey, Harry, is this your Invisibility cloak?"

"Yeah. Try putting it on." Said Ron, as she already started. "Cool!" She was invisible from the neck downwards.

"No, we haven't seen your diary." They had been put under the stress of interpreting it, starting from two weeks earlier, and Harry and Ron were beginning to get weary. They had written extremely creative dreams, which usually covered a page fully, that amidst all the cheers and points from Trelawney, they had to spend extra time to interpret it.

"Let's go! Snape will be waiting. Hermione will strangle us if we lose points from this new Snape too."

* * *

I, we enter the Floo. I felt the happiness building. I could return to Hogwarts. I am returning to Hogwarts. Home. My first home.

"Ministry of Magic."

We appear at the Atrium, with very few wizards, and a lot more witches. The sandy haired man at the wand checking asks for her wand, checks, and gives it back.

We walk across. I see the newspaper cuttings posted at the Department office of press and media. I pause. A trial. For Wormtail. So he had survived.

The trial had been postponed to the 2nd of November, due to 'management reasons'. Bertha looks at the cut paper with a smug look. "He betrayed them, didn't he? So Harry Potter was lacking the only family he had, his godfather."

"No. I have taught him at class. Dumbledore keeps him safe, with a couple of loving muggle relatives. His mother's side. I heard him discussing with a redhead about them giving some gifts for Christmas."

"Anyways. Muggles don't help you with magic, do they?"

"No, but their love makes him have some king of happiness, at the very least. I succumbed to a mental torture at the orphanage that I was forced to live in. Just because my father abandoned me and my mother. I killed the lot. I saw the old fool getting what he had coming for my mother. He abandoned her. The matron, her memories, they showed me. My mother had been at the feet of the staircases. She had begged her to name me. What would I do with a name? I didn't have an Identity. Nothing. Just another baby left over in the rubbish."

Bertha is the good audience. She gasps at the right places, I.e. The killing, and swallowed a bit for the memory of my mother. It is her comments that irritate me. "Killing them isn't the right thing to do." "That's why I tortured them in the first place. " "You are insane. How can you possibly feel good by killing. Or torturing? They were your father and his family. Your family. How could you. You're a psychopath."

We cross the billboards, and the memo decryption office, and passed by the Owlery. Her office was closer from the service entrance, but the reforms under Yaxley had made everybody's legs pain, with the agonising walk from the Atrium included in the deal.

She reaches Bagman's door, and knocks. "Come in. Is it you, Bertha? Ah, yes. Ready? Let's leave. Old Barty would have come by now, and I betcha, he will be bringing his assistant along. That one's been tailing him like an unreturned loan."

"He called him Weatherby." "He is Percy Weasley. Barty doesn't get names well. He keeps forgetting everything. Barty's got the wind knocked out of him ever since he had his wife die. And his son dies, twice. I don't think he's gonna confess, but why should he? He has gotten Bones in his hands. I don't think he liberated his son. That one was proved an 'Eater. He suspected me to be one. Now that's karma. Accuse an innocent, get your retribution. How he got him out, there lies the question. I would like to get him on that one."

" When are we leaving?"

"Yeah. Of course. Now. Come on."

They reached the Transportation and Functioning Systems office, as a black haired man went past. "Soldier, care for a drop off? For the two of us, pick up for her?"

"Yeah, Ludo, come in then. The man placed the stack of papers he carried, as he went to the front. "Go there. That circle. Who's the lady?" "Bertha Jorkins. Colleague in my office. Remember Sticky? She was the one who sped up the rumour mill on him clearing off those brains, remember? They took them brains to the dep of mysteries then."

"Oh, yeah, nice to meet you." "This is Soldier, here. An old, very old friend. Yeah, his name is soldier, that's no nickname. " Bagman laughs a hearty laugh. "You know, gossip queen here is absolutely happy with all those. Likes a bit of a name, she does."

Bertha laughs.

"Skip the small talk. Remember thy purpose." I say in a mocking tone. She grins and further takes them onto the topic of this 'Sticky' getting into his sticky situation. Honestly, if that term even applies to me, I do not know how these people care about these trivialities. These humans were meant to be under the feet of a ruler, me. I couldn't care less with this blasted Sticky.

"Hey, I'll send you fast. I have to get these copies to Weasley. Another splinching. Those at the office keep asking for perfect records, and Improper Use always ties with every department."

Why do I hear more about Weasley this day? I think it is mostly the Author's fault. He doesn't know any more workers at the Ministry, and also is cringing at the thought of introducing names of non-canon idiots who peek in at that moment in a stupid conversation.

After an eternity, and a quarter hour more (after Soldier's call for speeding up) they went to the point of Portkey usage (as most of the ministry was anti-portkeyed due to the Great Ambush and Coup-d'etat of the 1300s, when the heavily guarded gates were bypassed using old bottles of wine, by the Drunkard Association, who were in association with the remnant of the lost clans of Morgana's followers.). After Hogwarts was timed to 8 seconds, we feel the jerk behind the umbilicus, while the tug was stronger felt by my torso, rather than hers.

The fresh scent of mown grass pierces our nose. Bagman was beside me, er.. her. Us. The castle loomed in front. We had landed at the northern side, the entrance to the corridor to the Great Hall in front of us.

I struggle to keep my excitement within me. A tall woman walks towards us. I recognize her as the Professor of Arithmancy, aptly named the Vector. She introduces herself to us. I swallow, with eyes watering. I am about to go back.

I let out the deep breath I held, as we place our feet on the stone steps of the entrance. I had no reason to be within Bertha. I come out.

* * *

As soon as the Klaxon call sounded, Bertha gasped. Her body shook, as she felt the foreign soul leave. Bagman caught her. "What's the time?" She asked. He looked at the giant clock at the top of the Gryffindor tower after going a few steps backward.

"Ten twenty eight. Why?" "Then why did the Klaxon sound? It's not usually the time when classes end..."

Realization dawned on her, as it brought a smile on her face.

* * *

Snape had left them to make the Single scale altered Sleep depravation potion, after the recent problems faced by the Ministry with Insomnus. He had deduced the problem with. Herbert Imsomnus' trial, ŵhich had been a minor changed transverse cut of the limb of a gnome, rather than a coronal section of the torso, with the anterior part, especially with the beard, to be immersed in isotonic saline to human plasma. Such a drastic difference had resulted in a coma inducing solution.

"How does he get two hours? The next was supposed to be Charms, and..."

"Snape borrowed it. Professor Flitwick told me. The second hour, 9 o clock to 10, Snape got it and traded for next week. So next week is two hours of Charms. For the snakes, he borrowed the free period when two of them attend Arithmancy." Said Hermione.

They were brewing it, as Ron asked. "So, which one is correct? Coronal or transverse? I missed whatever Snape told."

"Coronal. With the beard. And prepare the saline first. Do that before this. See the board."

"Harry Potter, listening to Severus Snape. Now that is unheard of." "Bla blah blah Hermione, I'm not listening."

It did end, at the end of the two hours, when Harry found his solution nearly matching Hermione's solution in consistency and colour. The classroom reeked of a smell similar to vomit. He felt happy, glad that he had listened to the class. Snape came back. He usually made it a routine nowadays to go out of the class (only for the Gryffindor-slytherin batch) and just come back at the end to issue essays and homework. And to check their Potions.

"Thickness matters, Miss Brown, it should be less watery. If you were to get rid of nightmares, you don't want to just lose an hour's sleep. Perfect Mister Potter, Miss Granger. Foul, Mr Weasley, write an essay on the systematic brewing, and avoid just pouring the Chinese Fireball spit in the wrong order. Good Mister Malfoy, but work up on the colour. Nobody wants some medicine looking _and_ smelling like vomit."

"Done. Please submit last week's essays on the table. I am glad none of you imbeciles have done the mistake Insomnus had committed. Go. Class dismissed."

"He took a full Twenty minutes of our break! We only have three quarters of the hour, what? Forty minutes, yeah, before getting to Astronomy. And we would have to climb up to the tower, so we must leave five minutes early. I hate them. Why do they have to pick up a holiday for teaching. If I were Malfoy-" "which you are gladly not-" "yeah, I would get it to my father's ears. Yuck, that sounds so low. How does he call himself a man and say that? He's just another-"

"Yes boys, keep talking about manliness. Just get on with the break, can't you?" Hermione's call shut them up, as they reached the second floor. "Well, we can get a snack upstairs, have some elf deliver it, and continue to the tower. It would give us more time anyway. We will lose ourselves if we go to the common room back again."

They climbed a few more floors, and stayed on the seventh. "Hey, Harry, did I tell you?" "What?" "Dobby is working here. He got paid work under Dumbledore. Here, in the kitchens."

"Nice." "He wanted to meet you, but he felt too uncomfortable to be disturbing you, so he waits for your call." She called into the air. "Dobby, some French fries, please?" "Oh, not French, please, I get bad memories with that and Veela." With a crack, Dobby appeared, his eyes in tears, and a plate of fries beautifully arranged, with three sauces in porcelain cups on the plate. "Harry Potter, sir. It is a great pleasure to meet you back again, sir! Dobby is so happy." He wiped his eyes, while Harry noticed his clothing. "Where did you get those, Dobby?" He was wearing a coat on top of a nightgown, that horribly clashed pink and purple with black. He wore no pants, or any other clothing that could cover the legs, but his coat did it too. "Dobby got it, sir. People donated clothes, especially Professor Dumbledore sir. Dobby has been having a very happy life helping professor Dumbledore sir. How is Harry Potter sir? Dobby hasn't seen Harry Potter for months."

"I am fine, Dobby. Thanks for the fries! This is Ron, Ron Weasley. Another friend of mine."

"Hey Dobby."

Just then, an ear piercing scream rolled out through the castle, shrill enough to burst out their eardrums, and as soon as it came, it stopped. "It sounded like the bell, but with Mrs Norris screaming into the microphone..."

"What's the time?" "Dunno, but can't be 11 yet, too early..."

* * *

 **Thanks for the reviews...**

 **Please read and review**

 **This chapter is a three parter, and expect it to be posted within the weekend.**


	18. Halloween: The Fight

**Chapter 18 :Halloween Part 2 : The Fight**

* * *

Dumbledore climbed down the stairs. While the entrance was crowded, with a set of third year's having come back from their Care of Magical Creatures class, Albus pushed past the students, while he released his mind to the air. It had started to rain.

 _Where are you... where... are... you.?.?_

 _The echoes flew past the air, as he saw the doubling of souls._

 _Extreme sounds pierced the gaze._

He had come out of whichever body he was inhabiting.

"I expected you, Tom!" Albus roared into the raining lawns.

"Dumbledore. I have come back. And I find you restraining me with, these? Frail old man. Nothing to stop me from entering students of mine. Yours. Give me what I desired. I never wanted anything except that, and you take back what is mine?"

The air vibrated, as a burst of white light emerged, as Voldemort held strings of light within his hands, radiating out energy.

"Devastatingly easy spells to devastate the observer. Plunging into cheap muggle tricks? I was the co-author of the book, Tom."

"Don't. Call me. Tom."

"Your self fashioned name is not nice, Tom. What will Merope Gaunt think? Or should I say Merope Riddle?"

He blasted out with a repelling charm at the students, lashing a flaming lasso on the boundaries. Albus exited the boundaries, just as every single student was pushed in. "Hogwarts! Save whatever is yours!" Albus shouted, as the warding tightened.

"What if I enter Azkaban? What if I infiltrate the ministry? You do not know where I have been in for the near past, old man?"

"You are weak, Tom. No amount of power shall amount when you do not have the proper channelling. Magical theory, volume 6."

"Stop quoting, Dumbledore. I have already been up the castle. How long does it take? " The apparition smiled gruesomely, as Ginny Weasley screamed, cowering within Hogwarts. Tom had taken the appearence of his old 15 year old form.

Albus squinted his eyes, seeing past the light, as multiple streaks of violet struck the ground near Dumbledore. The grass erupted, with fanged tendrils. The ground below Dumbledore vibrated, as Dumbledore swirled his wand around him. With the ground stable, the tendrils pointed at him, just as a grey bolt of light hit the robes of Dumbledore's clothing. The fangs bit at the cloak, as it came apart with a large extension, which took the brunt of the spikes. Alastor Moody had entered the fray.

"Surrender Tom. Repent."

Tom smiled, muttering "Done it."

They were blasted, as a darkness took over. The light strands that Voldemort commanded to give a corporeal appearence turned a black colour, obscuring the vision of anything behind him. He wore a tiara on his head, and as his eyelids opened, Dumbledore found that he knew the exact words inscribed on the backside of the tiara.

 _Wit beyond measure, is man's greatest treasure._

Voldemort roared in laughter. Dumbledore came to his feet, as his face grimaced. His beard had flakes of grass sticking on, and he looked up, as he saw Voldemort feel his chins. He had gained a more solid appearence, as Dumbledore confirmed Slughorn's memory had more importance.

"What now, Dumbledore? I have reached beyond. I came out of my host within grounds, and I have retrieved whatever I needed. You, being the gentleman you are, gave me the time I needed."

"How many more?" Dumbledore croaked, as Voldemort deflected the ghost binding curse cast by Moody. Students watched, bewildered, as more came down, running to the glass panes of the northern side of the Great Hall.

"Oh, you would love to know, wouldn't you? I can kill you now. Do you realise it? But it is not time. I believe a bit of terror and... ah, fun, would make a great difference. Don't you agree? My dear _Rubeus?_ " He made a holding gesture, as Rubeus Hagrid arose, legs flailing, hands clutching his throat.

"Killing you, would surely be a pleasure, Albus, and I hope you don't die of natural causes before I get to it. Killing a student, meanwhile, would be a waste of Magical blood. I am not here for killing, and though my original plans have been _botched_ , thanks to thee, now that I have gained a more corporeal form, I... You surely have thought out why I narrate all my idiocies to you, old man? Of course, it is because I love bragging." He bowed, as Dumbledore rose his wand. Thunder sounded, as the Great bolt of lightning from the Great Wand hit the air. The form splattered, globs of slimy black substance flooding the ground. An eerie laughter rolled out, as Dumbledore dispelled it. Hagrid fell down, gasping for breath.

"Got it!" Shouted Colin. A group of students rounded up, as they got the developed picture out of the Polaroid. A greenish mist was seen on the picture, with the black substance rolling out in concentric circles. "Hey, I got a vial of developing potion. Pour it in. " The picture was then doused in the fluid, as the Dark Mark floated into view. Colin dropped the photo in surprise, as they looked back out. Moody was ushering them all inside. Dumbledore was nowhere in sight.

* * *

The candles in the castle were lit, as Bertha Jorkins looked back up. "How many?" Asked Dumbledore. The room was quiet, although she could feel the multiple eyes staring at her.

"I think he tried for seven. He wanted that, anyway. I don't know how many he made, but it should be-"

"Seven. Yes, Tom would have preferred the-" "- most magical number, yeah, he said so."

"Were you under the Imperius?"

"No. Sure if that anyway. I've not gotten any blissful feeling since he came in. Nope. He wanted to know..."

"You killed my son. Why?" So Crouch was here too.

"Yes, why?" Asked the Headmaster.

"He didn't want magical blood to go to waste. He won't kill any of you too, unless you disturb him too much. The... thing that happened to Alice... he knew the Longbottoms were purebloods. He... tortured your son and killed him. Don't feel sorry for him. And you wiped out my memory too, he made that memory come up too. He first planned to take him back as a servant, you see. Then he got a bit bad, seeing as he saw that Junior was a bit cranky... he tortured, the Cruciatus. I want a new wand."

"Would you require a calming draught?" "No. But whatever you are planning with his servants, especially that Peter Pettigrew, he called him Wormtail. Don't put him in Azkaban. No. He is gonna get them all back as soon as possible."

"So, now we have first class information that Pettigrew is the culprit. I think that would be enough. Miss Bertha, please take your rest. Albus, I am leaving. Bad business, all this'll..."

"No. Cornelius. Stay. We have loads more to discuss." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I am here in an emergency, Dumbledore, and I will have... to..." "Stay."

* * *

"First class Pictures of Voldemort and Dumbledore fighting. 70 galleons per picture, and a hundred if you want the moving version. We have some signed by the Headmaster himself too, with special permission-" "and a royalty too." grumbled Dennis.

"They are making good money. Wish we took pics too, eh Gred?" "Yeah. 280 galleons in a day. Outrageous. That was only bought by the sixth years cos they can't come from the Divination tower that fast. But a few Gemino charms will set them right. We only have two more signed copies. All the normal ones are sold." Colin Creevey told them excitedly, as their mood was let down a few more inches towards open jealousy.

"So, he didn't include you anywhere in that fight, mate." Said Ron, to Harry. They had had their Astronomy classes cancelled, due to the urgent staff meeting after Dumbledore returned, half an hour after the Five-minute Battle.

"Good thing. I hate everyone talking about me the whole time, for anything related to Voldemort. Stop wincing Ron. He isn't so much of a phobia to be frightened of. Why don't you say the name, huh?"

Ron chose to divert the topic. "But, don't you miss the feeling of everyone cheering you up? For saving all from him? From saving Ginny? The stone? Siri-"

"I don't care." "That sounded halfhearted. Ha. You like that, don't you? You want pride, but you make it look like you are modest. I knew it." "Shut it, Ron. It isn't happy to know that you are famous for your parents dying for you..." "Nah, don't go to that part. Still, you won the cup! You saved the stone. You have been doing much more than living to your parents legacy."

"I expect Dumbledore will call you for telling something special about Voldemort." Said Hermione.

"Will you please stop saying his name? Unlike you, I have been living in the magical world since I've been born, and I know the pain that people feel... you know, my uncles, mom's brothers, they died cos' they fought... him." "I'm sorry Ron, but you could use YKW though." They sniggered "What's with that. It isn't funny, but saying that lightens the mood simply." McGonagall enetered via the Fat Lady's back. "Mister Potter, the Headmaster wants you to meet him at his office."

"Told you." "You two can accompany him, if you want. He said so."

"Cool. Come on." They scooped up their books they had brought in case the session was continued, and stacked them to a neat pile on the other side of the fireplace.

"Ah, and the Password is 'Cockroach Clusters', Mister Potter. And it is nearing Lunchtime. Please come back to the Great Hall when you are finished. There will be celebrations." "Yes, Professor."

* * *

With the knock on the door, Dumbledore collected the Penceive and the various vials from th stand, and pushed them to the cabinet, as he moved towards the door. Luna Lovegood was standing, humming a tune that vaguely resembled the 5th symphony.

He welcomed her in, and prompted her to sit. The others should be coming in a minute or so. "Luna, do you know why I have called you, especially now?"

"I think so, sir. Grindelwald is not associated with any of Voldemort's doings. If so, he would have shown more knowledge about you and any potential weaknesses." She grasped the air near the Sword of Gryffindor, and crushed the invisible thing, and threw it behind her shoulder. "Another Drape?" "Yes sir." "I thought I had them all purged out of my room."

There was another knock. The three Gryffindors entered, as Ron and Hermione stared at the room. They had never been here, Harry guessed. "Hello, Professor."

"Ah, Harry. It is good to meet you in person again. Miss Granger, take your seat."

He conjured another chair, as Harry and Ron looked at him intently. He took off his glasses, his broken nose becoming more prominent, as the stitches near the root of the nose stuck out. He started wiping the glasses with a red cloth, while Hermione looked at the Phoenix. "Is that Fawkes? I've heard about him. He is very beautiful."

"Yes, it is the middle of the season. He is extremely beautiful, with the plumage in gold.." Dumbledore affectionately stroked the back of the Phoenix, as it cooed.

"Why did you call us, Professor? Anything to do with Voldemort?" "And what is Luna doing here?" Hermione managed an awkward smile, as Luna cheerfully waved.

"Mostly to do with Voldemort, my boy, and our dear Miss Lovegood is involved in another matter I have to concern us all, with the burden to be put down."

"This is a class like session, children, and I request you to forgive me if it makes you feel bored. We have to delve into the pasts, of two specific individuals, that I have collected through a lifetime, a collection of memories, that will have to be seen through... this." Blue light emanated out of the opened cabinet, as th stone basin floated to the centre of the classroom. "Whoa... what is it a." Asked Ron. "It's a pensieve, isn't it, professor?" Asked Hermione, as Luna smiled, along with the Headmaster. "Very good, Hermione. It is, and one of the rarest possessions of Hogwarts."

"The two individuals, who are both great, and both wandering through the very wrong path, that I avoided through luck. They are both threat to the peace of the wizarding world, and both are now out in the world."

"Oh. Is it that day, already?" Asked Luna, as they viewed her with questioning looks. "Yes, my dear. The day has passed us, and we are now in the world with two Dark lords. Lord Voldemort, and Gellert Grindelwald."

"What!" There were surprised gasps, as Dumbledore silenced them. "It was foretold, in three prophecies, that they shall escape. The third one, Harry, is the one you witnessed our Professor Trelawney utter in a moment of trance, when she stated the words as such."

He plucked out a strand of white substance from his temple with his wand, and dropped it into the basin.

Harry's face swirled, as he said, in a ghostly voice. " _She said something, sir. Like in a about Wormtail coming back to help Voldemort. I first thought she was just... then she looked different, and she remembered nothing after she told it. I think she must've made a real prophecy, sir."_

"Now, Harry, give us that memory of the prophecy you saw. Just focus on the memory and draw it out. "

After a minute, as the prophecy materialised, they saw the face of their Divination professor in the pensieve.

 _It will happen tonight. The Dark Lord lies alone and friendless, abandoned by his followers. His servant has been chained these twelve years. Tonight, before midnight... the servant will break free and set out to rejoin his master. The Dark Lord will rise again with his servant's aid, greater and more terrible than ever he was. Tonight... before midnight... the servant... will set out... to rejoin... his master..._

"That sounds very specific, sir. Wormtail is now caught, its in all the papers... why would ... then how will the prophecy be fulfilled?"

"The servant broke free. It must be referring to Wormtail, there is no other option."

"So, if you kill Wormtail, Ykw won't come back?" "Ykw?"

"It is the name that the twins used to name... him, sir. Ron is not inclined to telling the name of Voldemort, so..."

"No. Prophecies are never false. They can be bypassed by various means, as we will see in the near future, and with this tournament business, there simply isn't enough time..."

Dumbledore collapsed on his chair, as he breathed out. "We are going to have a lot of work, children. "

"Wormtail is not going to be killed. It is in the prophecy, that Wormtail shall revive Voldemort to his full glory, and it shall take place. Even if we kill him, and his body is burnt, ashes scattered, his ashes shall be the key to Voldemort's revival. Trying to make a prophecy go false is like stopping a flood. It bypasses the obstacles and floods your city in a different way. It has all the time in the world. You are nothing but an inconsequential piece of mass which time consumes without mercy."

"We are going to have multiple sessions of this matter in the following days. I shall inform it by special means to you, by means of the Protean charm, a NEWT level charm, which has the effects of sympathetic binding. The matter is sensitive, and I would request you to keep it secret for the time being."

As hey we're leaving, thoroughly shaken by the thought of the two dark lords roaming around, Harry turned and asked. "Would they team up? I mean..." "They won't. Trust me. Voldemort has very different ideologies from Gellert, and I am completely sure they will never unite. It is the calm before the storm, my child. Gellert' escape has not become public, because he wants it so. I believe the other prophecies might provide a good loophole with which we can neutralise threats, but I would need the help of your young minds for that purpose."

"And Miss Granger. Take this book. I hope you will get a view on what we are trying to grasp. He held out a weathered book, written by himself. It looked like an original copy. The name was not written on the binding, only Dumbledore's was written, and the fron cover was blank. "Thank you, sir."

They left the room, went back to their respective common rooms, and returned to the Great Hall for the lunch.

* * *

The hall was full to the brim with students, and they spotted many from the other schools having made friends among theirs, and Hermione muttered "International Cooperation. Look there. McLaggen's practically eating her face off." They watched as McLaggen got called off for public obscenity by Snape, with three detentions issued, along with a loss of twenty points from Gryffindor.

The tables were occupied, and the staff took their seats, as there was a silencing by Professor McGonagall. "The Headmaster will arrive in a few minutes. Please return to your house tables, and the guests are requested to take their seats in whichever tables the choose to." She smiled and sat down.

Harry looked for Krum, and he was sitting near the front, along with a few Ravenclaws and Durmstrang friends, and was scowling as they chatted. He went to the seat where Hermione was sitting, and saw Fleur Delacour sitting there.

Resigned, and determined to not lose his composure again in front of them, he walked towards the table, and sat down. Ron took a seat in the back, with Fred, George and Lee. He waved at Harry, but Harry thought it was impolite to leave Hermione as such, after he sat with her. Fleur was animatedly blabbering in French, as he asked Hermione what they were talking about. "Nothing, Harry. Fleur here, has a sister named..""Gabrielle" "yeah, Gabrielle, back at home, France, and she just said how she feels about leaving her sister behind. She wanted to come for this, you see."

Hermione started chatting back again, as Harry looked to his left, where nobody was sitting, except more to the side, was Seamus. Harry just slided his back across the row, and hit Seamus on the shoulder. "Not an understandable word, is there?" They both sniggered, as Moody came by, tapping his staff and leg in an audibly synchronised tune with his whistling.

Dumbledore appeared via the door to the left of the podium, rather than his usual dramatic entry through the Entrance. He smiled at all, and took his seat with the other two Headmasters, and there were special seats for two more people, that Harry had missed on his first sight. Ludo Bagman, and Barty Crouch were sitting there, while a flustered looking woman and Percy had seats with the staff in the back.

Dumbledore clinked his Goblet, and started his speech.

"Greetings, children and professors. Today, is the great ceremony of the formal inauguration of the Triwizard tournament and the lighting of the Goblet of Fire. In light of events, of a slightly depressing nature in the morning, I ought to give some advice, more becoming of a warning. Lord Voldemort, known as Tom Riddle was one of the prodigious students of Hogwarts, a student of mine, and most of the same faculty who teach you. His fall into the hands of Darkness, was a truely depressing accident, and shall always be marked as one of history's worst phenomena. However, his actions have been evil, and I urge you children, that this time is a time of unity. If Voldemort is coming back to power, however strong the pull is, however seductive the darkness is, I sincerely wish you children will respond to the call of the good. Know which demarcates right from wrong, good from evil. No motive is justifiable if it involves a death. And remember, supporting the truth and holding your flame alight in front of all, even when the powerful are against you, shall lead you to glory, brighter and immortal. We have special visitors here, today, and let me introduce them all."

"Cornelius Fudge. Minister of Magic, for the glorious nation of Britain. With him, Senior Undersecretary, Madam Umbridge, and head of the DMLE, Madam Amelia Bones. We also have the representatives of the ministry, Mister Ludovich Bagman, head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, and Madam Bertha Jorkins, from the same department. Mister Bagman, shall be one of the Judges for the Tournament."

Applause greeted them, as Dumbledore continued.

"Mister Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Along with him, Master Percival Weasley, his assistant. Mr Crouch shall be another Judge for the Tournament."

"I now request Bartemius to give away the preliminary instruc- Oh, right. Now we shall proceed with the lighting of the Goblet of Fire."

The Head boy from Ravenclaw got up the stage, and started narrating the history of the Goblet of Fire, as Crouch opened the shimmering violet satin cloth covering it. The Goblet was a 3 feet tall item, which had engravings on the sides, with a thin holding part. The Goblet was raised, and as it got above the head of Mr Crouch, it shimmered, and with a whoosh, it lighted, with a bright blue flame.

* * *

 **I would now love to scream "Chandrian Chandran" in the Great Hall.**

 **Part 3 in preparation.**

 **Reviews please.**


	19. Halloween: The Trial

**Chapter 19 : Halloween: Part 3: The Trial**

* * *

"I would request the trial of Peter Pettigrew to be sped up a day, Cornelius. Today evening shall be perfect. We shall have to wind up the celebrations for today. It is immediate that we will have to risk the safety of the Ministry confines for the day. Voldemort is not the person to dawdle. He shall strike at the easrliest possible, and we should find the route to prevent as many deaths as possible. He-"

"Dumbledore. I cannot possibly... Pettigrew's trial would have to be widely publicised, and this preponing... we will have to make arrangements. Why can't it be done tomorrow morning? Let the students revel here. I believe you have all the faculty here, but I don't... I suspect..."

He glanced at the staff table. They were in the Northern corridor, yards away from the site of the duel, overlooking the Great Hall's entrance and stairs to the staff podium. "Who? Severus? Cornelius, I have said it, and it is in my confidence that Severus Snape is our best man. He is no spy of Voldemort, and he has turned against him at great personal risk, and I repeat it in full knowledge. Or do you mean Igor? He was a man with the Mark, but I can guarantee you, the Dark Lord will not look upon deserters for help. I thoroughly believe that Pettigrew is the man that Voldemort is-" "Will you stop saying the name? Please. God. Stop this. I am no puppet of yours Dumbledore. I have it in my own right to do matters as I think best, and sadly, you are not providing me considerable proof that these men are innocent." "I will then move the trial to my own whims, Cornelius, as it is in my right as the Chief Warlock."

"I warn you, Dumbledore.." The diminutive man looked up at him with a fierce insolent glare. "I will have to proceed with separate trials for these men too, if you hasten the trial for Pettigrew. Make your wish." He turned with a scoff, going back to the grounds, and with a sudden turn, he avoided the northern entrance, and went back to the Great Hall. He consulted Crouch, who then looked through the doorway at Dumbledore. After a moment of argument, both men came out, as Crouch licked his lip. Clenching his teeth, with a sign of resignation, Fudge spoke. "So it is, then, Dumbledore. The trial this evening. What do you propose, the veil?" He grumbled in laughter and disbelief. "Nothing so rash. He must be in extreme custody, and his sentence should not involve death. I have my reasons," he said, before Fudge opened his mouth."for such a request, but it better remain in full secrecy for the time being."

"I shall inform Madam Bones. Call Dolores, Cornelius. She will have to note it down for the scheduling purposes. She had Herbert under the leash-"

"-because he was a halfblood, Barty. She hates everybody except Purebloods. I would not hand over any authority over to her hands." Dumbledore interjected.

"Yes, she does have her own agendas. She is a miniature version of that old Riddle. Got into bad lines, dragging many misguided..." Barty sniffed, as he bit his upper lip. "I will look into this. You have my support, Albus."

"Cornelius plans to shove in Severus and Karkaroff into this issue. I would very much like them not getting involved in this matter. Could you-" "I'll try. I might have some old files where you provided proofs, but it might take a while. Prolonging the case must be avoided at all costs, if you have your sources for Pettigrew being under You-Know-Who's line of sight. I hope you are right, though. I just want to be the one who signs Black out of his sentence." He grinned weakly, his hands fidgeting. "I sent him in, without a trial. It looks like life wants me to feel bad for every single thing I do."

He pulled out a watch from his pocket. "It is already Four. I'll get Amelia on the Floo. Can we get to your office? I hope we don't get that old trial room. The one near the Department of Mysteries. It brings back old memories."

Crouch lead the way, as Dumbledore followed. They went in the Great Hall, where the feast had begun, after a long relay of the ceremonial lighting and rereading of the regulations took place. Students had slept for a good time, and with that, the feast had been ordered to be started. The cuisines were back to European, and with that, the Beauxbatons students had started their complaining. Durmstrang had no restrictions for good food, and had settled for a good meal.

It had taken some time for Madame Maxime to explain to her wards about just asking for food. House elves had the impeccable ability to prepare desired food within minutes, and they served in good grace. Their complains drowned with a quick scolding from Olympe, shutting them for good.

* * *

 _The evening glow appeared in the horizon, the sun not yet set. The visitor walked across the street, hands in his pocket. The cold had started to show up, and he had quite a distance to travel before the night fell. Children played along the sides, wearing different costumes. Some shouted in English. The visitor slowed down his pace. He turned back, and saw a child standing in the middle of the road._

 _She held out a sweet, as her mother ran out into the lawn. "Happy Halloween." The child wished him. It was a girl. She wore a black and red clothing. The visitor reached out his hand, and took the sweet. She whispered. "I am a vampire. Don't tell anyone." She giggled, and ran back. He raised his hood, wished her back. He walked to the corner of the street, where he Disapparated, his route having another on-the-way destination, before the final spot._

 _The German ministry regulated Apparation for distances more than a 2 kilometres. It had been shamelessly implemented after the Motorised Broom developers of Canada had made a widely publicised donation to the Ministry of Magic. Floo was supported in most households, but no major tourist sites had the good access, so broomsticks on loan was the most preferred form of transport._

 _Arriving at the newly planned site, the Visitor made his way to the graveyard on the far north. The roads had the children, and even adults walking as vampires, and some even as witches or monsters. The iron fence had rusted, leaving a small door off its hinges. The visitor placed a hand on the fence, and jumped across. Happy at his youth, he walked towards the older graves on the site, mostly to the fourteenth century. "Diffindo." He cut his palm, and as blood seeped into the soil, he moved back, allowing for space._

 _"No. It has been converted to an international subordinate, Grindelwald. No control lies within our hands. You may get mercenaries, but that won't solve your purpose. The high council decides matters. All because you and that British fool decided to meddle and take over all. I used to be a king, mind that. Your enemy had the chasm covered. He made sure the old puppet accepted the proposition to form the council."_

 _"So, your folk are of not much help. I hadn't hoped for much, I had forgotten your help. Where will I get those mercenaries you mentioned?"_

 _"I don't know. I've been out of the political ground for years. My Baronhood has been stripped off, and the Coven placed one of their bastards in the place of our rule. I've been shut out under the soil for TWELVE YEARS, damn it. I know nothing. I am dead to the World, even to the world of Vampires."_

 _"You can be dead, for all I care." The visitor cast a 'Bombarda' at the fence, blasting through. "Monsters, Mummies and Vampires. There seem to be a depression in the population of zombies, don't you think, Freiherr? And this poor village seems to have wooden crosses pitched into the ground, honouring their dead. I hope you try mounting an effort to escape."_

 _He cast a curse, with which the ground rumbled, and as he moved on, the perimeter of the graveyard grew up, with the leaves of the garlic plant showing up, the vampire wincing at the smell from a hundred feet away._

 _The army of Inferi rose, as Gellert Grindelwald, the visitor, disapparated, without doubting the success of his attack._

* * *

They left the castle a bit later, by 5 o' clock. Amelia had made her authorised special Floo connection ready by her office, which was usually reserved for personal reasons, as Dumbledore, and Crouch came out. Cornelius had chosen to come by the general Floo, in the Atrium, along with Dolores, and Percy. Bertha had remained in the headmaster's office under protective enchantments.

"The trial has been scheduled... um.. twenty minutes from now, Albus. Only senior Wizengamot usually would opt, but it seems most of the wizarding community wants to publicly announce Pettigrew guilty. I don't know. Cornelius is already facing this resistance from people for this Pettigrew business, and he gets stuck with the return of the Dark-Lord. What a time we live in." Madam Bones sighed, getting up from her seat.

"Which room has been allocated?" Asked Dumbledore.

"Courtroom ten. Ironic, right? That one was where we passed the legislation to rule out all outright proved cases of terrorism, and now, we are going to release Sirius Black, who went in with that one." Amelia smiled, as she picked up a few of the papers, and divided it into a separate batch. "Cornelius is afraid Sirius getting out might plunge his reputation into the sewers. He wants another person to be punished for maintaining his status. He aims to shove in more innocents for that."

"You can hardly call Karkaroff an innocent. That old goat just got the official pardon for ratting off about the others. Lucky for him, and us, Rookwood, the mole got into Azkaban."

"Ah, Azkaban. Albus here wishes we get rid of those Dementors. I say, those soulless god damned killers stay in with their kind."

"Dementors are a disgrace, Barty. It is quite worrisome that we have to resort to such low measures to maintain justice."

"Let's talk on the way, shall we? It's almost time."

* * *

"Silence."

"The chair recognises Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic."

"This hearing was originally scheduled for the morning session of the First of November, nineteen ninety four, and has been officially preponed to the evening of the previous day. We are here to discuss the incident that took place on Halloween night, 13 years ago, on the fateful night when the Potter family was brutally murdered by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, at the residence of the Potters, Three, Godric's Hollow, following light of recent events. Proof, has been provided by Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, in regard to Sirius Black's innocence. Has the Accused bought himself a defence?

"No, sir."

"Let the hearing start."

* * *

"The court recognises the innocence of Sirius Black, on thorough interrogation of Peter Pettigrew, general, and under Veritaseurm, and three copies of memories have been submitted. The court requests the presence of Sirius Black in the next hearing, which can be scheduled informal, requesting only the presence of the Minister of Magic, and the Chief Warlock as a compulsion. As a formal acknowledgement of the errors committed, and for the thirteen years of imprisonment under false claims, the Ministry offers a refund of a thirteen hundred Galleons to Mister Sirius Black, and shall be added to the Black family Vault after the man in question submits himself for questioning. The ministry apologises to the Auror office for wasting its time and effort in the last twelve months."

"As for Mister Pettigrew, the Wizengamot sentences this man to a prison sentence in Azkaban-" Dumbledore slapped his hand to his head, audibly. "Total duration unspecified, for the following stated crimes. Aiding in terrorism, illegal Animagus, involvement in the death of the Potters, ritualistic attempts at reviving He-Who-"

"And so on and so forth. It is a good thing, Albus. This rat getting stuck. Cornelius won't admit that you said all of this three months ago. Or was it four? You got it from Black himself, I presume. You are omniscient, Albus."

"This does not satisfy me, Elphias. They never do the necessary until it is too late. From all we have gained, Pettigrew never made it to Voldemort. I feel there is going to be a breakout out of Azkaban, mass, or just for this one person." He pointed at the snoring Pettigrew, experiencing the aftereffects of Veritaserum.

"And the Dementors? They will go behind him, won't they?" "Yes. He promises a price, and they work for that. He can offer them everything they want. That is what I am afraid. And Voldemort has enough sense to do it perfectly within Britain. He knows that getting the rest of Europe will never aid him."

"And with Lucius still heading the campaign against you being supreme Mugwump? That is still in the large. They take in the point of you being in multiple positions of power, and use that against you, and that gets a lot of public support. Making you old and senile won't work. " they both smiled, as everybody started leaving the hall.

"All in all, it was a bit boring. Only us Seniors would have been enough, the decision was unanimous..."

* * *

Harry looked at the timetable. "We have those idiotic dance classes starting this week. I can't see the need."

"They want to embarrass us in public, Harry. That's the only reason."

"Try getting girls early on, boys. I don't think you'll survive later on."

They had returned from the Great Hall late. It was nearly 6 before they had returned, and the boys had only slept half their sleeps at the ceremony. They all fell off at the common room, their shoulders supporting their heads. When they woke up, around three hours later, they were just in time to get a bit of a drink, as they were in no mood for a proper dinner. Harry was coming back from the notice board, holding a glass of cranberry juice. "Tomorrow is Pettigrew's trial. I hope he gets a proper death sentence." Said Ron. "Remember, Dumbledore said it won't be possible. Pettigrew killed would increase the chances of him falling into YKW's hands easier."

"Anyways, at least let those Dementors have him. That creep was in my bed for years. To think of me cleaning his crap. Ugh."

"Come on. Don't just think of him. He isn't worth of you thinking about him too."

"The Yule Ball is on Christmas. We have all the time in the world, Hermione."

"What else have you got to do? Unless the programme schedule got leaked by Fred and George, and the original plans got scraped off, we would have been stuck with not knowing about these... plans. For the tournament. Till the last day. You actually have time for the Yule Ball, and all of us will be able to get enough practice."

"And what do you think about... " Harry looked around."them both being out in the open? We can't go out without fear of death or getting under an Imperius."

"Hermione would be safe, though. They both are wizards. They won't target muggles, except as people suspended under a 'Levicorpus'. "

"What's a Levicorpus?" Asked Harry, at the same moment when Hermione started talking. "Don't you know anything about them?" She bypassed the interruption and continued. "Don't ... don't you know anything about them? Grindelwald controlled large masses of muggle public with Unforgivables. He had a grand army in thousands. All with the single motive." "To kill. Boo! Ah what were you asking, Harry?" "What was Levicorpus?"

"Ah, it was a spell. Those Death Eaters at the World Cup. They suspended muggles upside down, didn't they? That was a non-verbal spell. Sirius told me. At the Burrow."

The head boy, a black haired seventh year, came in through the Fat Lady. He was followed by a prefect of the sixth year. "What McGonagall told was.. what are you doing here? Go to your dormitories. It's time already. Curfew's on. Go on."

They went back, while Hermione collected her essays. "Good night, 'Mione."

* * *

He moved past the plaza. The memorial had been recently constructed. The sunset would have been a very good sight, but he was limited to undetectable transportation. So, unauthorised portkeys, Floo, and broomsticks were out of the equation.

While infiltrating MACUSA was a decision that had been focussed on commanding a force of nature, the Obscurus, here his purpose was to get hold of the sword that lay beneath the darkness. Circe had been a Greek witch, whose sword had mythical properties that could turn humans into animals. The real reason was because of the legendary stone embedded into the making of the sword, with the unbelievable forging methods lost to history. That stone was said to be a miraculous item, which contained a strand of the Golden Fleece, which explained the long life of Circe.

He removed all Muggle interference, as he removed the boulder like monument, to reveal the grave within. The grave was of a fifteenth century politician, of a old family, and politics lead to him getting a memorial of this size.

Inside was a rusted sword, and he lost any last bits of hope that he had in that. He pierced open the scabbard, while the sword's broken pieces littered the floor. He reconstructed the memorial, avoiding any traces of his presence.

A long journey, wasted.

* * *

 **Author's note.**

 **Grindelwald shall operate more in the darkness for the following chapters. His accounts and some flashbacks shall be thrown in later.**

 **Main reason: I don't want to deviate too much from canon.**

 **please review, and thanks for the reviews**


	20. Grave Business

**Chapter 20: Grave Business**

* * *

"Potter. The Headmaster summoned you to his office." Justin called him, as he went down the staircase, for Herbology. "Ok. I'll go there. Did he specify any time?"

"No, but he asked me to tell you not to cut any classes for meeting him. Good luck."

"Only me? He asked, as the boy looked down the railing of the flight above. "Yeah, only you. Not the entire school, he can do it in the feasts, can't he?" He smirked and ascended, as Harry landed at the bottom step, as he remembered. "Hey Seamus look out-"

The trick step gave way, as Seamus ended up with his shin partially buried within the wooden step. "Oww. Pick me up. Pick me-" he sighed, "Oof. That's gonna give me a scar."

Ron and Hermione had gone half an hour ago, for returning a book to the library. Harry didn't see the point of bringing back a book when at a residential school, especially when they were three corridors and a floor away from the library. They both said that they would come straight to the Herbology class before they went.

"Greenhouse II on the second row, students. We shall have to get back on some more work with those Caladrius' teardrop seeds. We started off with them last year, and sadly, your seniors have not planted them well. They won't come out of hibernation unless the malarial parasite is directly injected into them. The aleurone prevents you from selective insertion of Beesting as a needle because... anybody?"

"The aleurone layer contains thiamine." Said Harry, having looked upon to the books that Neville brought. Neville turned and smiled, as Sprout awarded ten points.

"Yes thiamine, also vitamin B1, does not allow the Bee sting of the Great Dragon Bee that we typically use for such injections. So, we use this. A muggle needle." She pulled out a pack of cardboard, marked 'Medical Supplies' or something similar.

"This is the good point of using muggle injectors. They deliver the solution directly into the seed, prompting its growth. A Caladrius, as you would study in your sixth year, is a magical seagull like being, that sits on windowsills, and cures diseases. Name a few ex- Well, come in, Miss Granger. Why are you late? Yes mister Weasley, come in, you too."

"We ran into a wrong corridor, Professor. Sorry."

"Now then. Right. The Caladrius. Pliny described it in the ancient times, and since then, there have been only a couple of sightings in the entire world, and I don't think you will find a mention of this bird even in Scamander's book. The teardrops take root immediately on exposure to disease, and we use malaria for this, as it has a perfect cure perfected by Hector-Dagworth. So, what are you all waiting for. Start up."

They started with the seeds, as Sprout handed them bowls with infected blood. She then gave them the syringes, which she called 'injectors'. The seed was hard, and she told them to first insert the needle inside, to pierce the hard layer, fill the syringe, and then start using the same hole to inject the solution.

Neville did it, and as he was about to plant it, it started sprouting. Sprout hurried to his table, as she plunged it into the soil. "The moment it sprouts, it uses up all the nutrition the seed contains. It should typically be injected while it is in the soil, but to make it easy..."

"Which dragon produces the most nutritious dung? Tell me the details, with respect to most angiosperms. Most flowers are the potent Potions ingredients, and they make up for the growing, developing part. So ignore bryophytes and gymnosperms. Just produce the essay with differentiation between the nutritional requirements of monocots and dicots. Three rolls of parchment. Submit on next Tuesday. Nah, Wednesday. I know Monday's that champion selection, so I'll give you one more day."

"Where did you two actually go? And that was a pretty lame excuse. Getting lost in a corridor?"

"It was real, Harry. We really got stuck with that..." "Oh. Stop it Ron. Harry, Ron here wrote down your and his names on prices of parchment and asked the twins to put it inside the Goblet." "Oh, I would have wanted to come! Does it have a chance of working?"

"Dunno, but it is said that restrictions on women were bypassed in the hundred and somethingth tournament by some woman enrolling by putting her name by giving it to a boy. So if it works on gender, why shouldn't it work with age?" Said Ron. "And Hermione stated that example. Don't suspect me of all this sacrilegious reading of books." They laughed, as Harry's seed withered. "Wow. You see that? It just..." "Inject and plant immediately, Mister Potter. Don't wait. It uses up all-" "-nutrition, yes, I'll do it correctly, professor."

Harry picked up another seed, as he knocked the bowl containing them. They feel down, and Harry collected them all from the ground and placed them back into the bowl. When he returned, he saw the Professor coming towards him. "How much time will they take to grow, professor? These teardrops, I mean."

"Usually they flower by winter, but I doubt if the leaves for the batch you planted will come within the year. Maybe Mister Longbottom's might come, he took the risk of injecting it while it was in the soil..."

After another half hour passed, she announced to the whole class. "Ok, round up, here. We will get these plants for the main exam, not to be planted or anything, that comes in the teacher level studies, but you might have to write the correct procedure, or to just identify the flower. See this one, here. A frozen specimen of a teardrop. Heals wounds with leaf extract, come on, note it down. Leaf extract heals wounds, burns till the second degree, nectar can be used in, well, it is a potent antidote, and can be used in sparing with a standard bezoar, except that it can heal two of the more complex poisons. One is the toxin dissolved in the essence of Simian, and the other is your homework. Find it out, and tell me for ten points. Nd no, Miss Granger. Give the others time, I know that you know this answer" she smiled, and removed her apron. "Class dismissed. Go on."

"Hey, Dumbledore wanted to meet you. We forgot. He asked you to come by yourself. Justin told us-" "Yeah, he told me too. I'll go."

* * *

 _Pettigrew Escapes - Fudge to step down?_

-Rita Skeeter

 _In an incident last night, after the much awaited trial of Peter Pettigrew, where the long absent man in question was proved without doubt that he was instrumental in the murder of the Potters, in a full court of Wizengamot, the criminal has escaped custody with an accomplice, Senior Ministry employee Walden Macnair. Transportation from the Ministry of Magic to Azkaban prison was rigged by said accomplice, and two ministry officials were killed in undisclosed locations, owing to the secrecy of the location of Azkaban. With rumoured sightings of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in Albania before his breakin into Hogwarts yesterday (see page 12), the wizarding community is under terror again. Pettigrew's trial was properly done, and Sirius Black attended a formal meeting with the Minister and Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore during the escape. The Dark Mark was said to be cast at the unspecified location._

 _People are insisting that Cornelius Fudge step down from his position for letting Pettigrew escape, and Albus Dumbledore had expressed his concerns over the former matter, for Pettigrew locked up in safer locations. A Ministry official, who asked to remain anonymous, has quoted "Fudge has been a good leader for peaceful times, but dark times call for more powerful rulers." Lucius Malfoy, senior Ministry worker, and member of the Wizengamot said "It is better to plan out our course of action before rash decisions. Peace must always be considered before waging outright war against the Dark-Lord."_

 _A public statement shall be released this evening by the Minister Of Magic in the confines of the Ministry_.

* * *

Harry climbed the staircases. They had another half hour before History of Magic.

The gargoyle moved to the same password. He climbed up the spiral staircase, and when he stood on the Headmaster's carpet, he knew he was bound to get a surprise. The surprise jumped on top of him, licked his cheeks, and then transformed to a man, grinning, while Harry stumbled to his foot, and got up. "Sirius!"

They hugged, as Dumbledore smiled sadly. His eyes looked sleepy. Sirius poured a cup of tea for all three of them as they sat down in the couches near the entrance. "Harry! How are you? Good to be a free man again. I feel good."

They discussed a full ten minutes about the trial, and in the end, Sirius stretched his arms out, and exclaimed.

"Ah, Freedom suits me. Even with..." "What? Even with?"

"Ah, Harry. It is a news that is unfortunate, especially at this moment of happiness. Wormtail escaped captivity. He was freed by Walden Macnair, who worked as an executioner and prison warden for this term." "They take shifts to be Azkaban's prison warden." Sirius explained.

"They sent him via the usual method, the black carriage, and the black boat. He was intercepted at some moment, where the Dark Mark was cast, and two of the other guards involved in transportation were killed. The Ministry is investigating on that matter, and with whatever that prophecy said, I find this not much of a surprise."

"What prophecy? Am I missing something here?"

"It was a prophecy made the day when Pettigrew escaped. It stated that he would be instrumental in the return of will have to discuss more of it later, though."

Harry looked at them "Why did they do the transportation at night though? Couldn't they wait till day?"

"It has been usual practice. I was transported in night too, if I remember that right. Enough of that hellhole. Let's talk fun. When are you coming to live with me? I'm gonna refurbish my old home. Will he be able to?" He asked, looking at Dumbledore.

"He needs to be with his blood relatives for protection, Sirius. He would have to spend at minimum a month per year to have the protection... say, renewed. Seeing as he does not visit them during Christmas and the Easter breaks, he can come to your home for that time. But I suggest you have a good time in the muggle and the wizarding world, and merge more with people. Times are changing. Better get our dosage of comfort and fun before we are shut down to our homes."

"Anyways. Don't worry about Pettigrew, Sirius. Don't go on chasing for him, or anything stupid."

"What? You are the hero, Harry. You are the one with the saving people thing. With what I've heard, you seem to behaving quite a bit of a complex." Sirius giggled, as Harry asked. "What did they give you in return for all that accusations?"

"Quite a bit of gold. And now I can spend it too."

" So, can I go to Sirius' house during Christmas?" "Not this year, Harry. This year you have the Yule Ball, and I think Sirius would like to attend it too?" He looked questioningly at Sirius. "Who are coming? The 'Sisters?"

"We planned for them yes, but to keeping secrets, our ministry has been woefully bad. With the leak of the original plans, after we scrapped off a task with the merfolk, we had to reshape the entire model. We sent out for a different set of singers. With Harry here, and I am attempting a mischievous smile, m'boy, I am not going to tell you."

"Too bad. I would have come if it were the sisters. Their hit single was 'Pacman died'. That one blew up the charts, try hearing it, Harry. You have a radio in the common room, don't you?"

"Sherbet Lemons, you two?" Dumbledore stuck out a bowl that looked vaguely similar to the one that he carried to the evening feasts, before the other schools came. "I'll take one. I would hate to let you eat those beauties all by yourself." Said Sirius, as he grabbed three.

"Ah, aren't you late for History of Magic? Go to your classes, Harry. It wouldn't do well to miss a single class, especially of fascinating history."

Harry suppressed a laugh, as he waved bye to Sirius, and worded the bye to Dumbledore. "With Binns still teaching, your choice of words still amuses me, Dumbledore. Fascinating, huh?" They both broke into laughter, as Harry went down.

* * *

They kneel in front of me. I torture them both. They had forgotten me. I had called for them, going to the risk of getting into the body of the Ministry wizard in the caravan to Azkaban. The dementors cannot stand the temptation of having a free soul in front of them. They would have consumed mine, and without a proper body to hide the scent, Azkaban would have been very dangerous, dangerous indeed.

Pettigrew crawls to the front. "Your wand, My lord. I have safeguarded it for all these years. I knew the Weasley's house, or Hogwarts would have been very bad sites to hide it, so I kept it in a very safe site. The fools at the ministry did not check me for magical residue, for in luck, I have stitched the shrunken wand of my Lord to my leg. I shall give it to you, my lord. Ma hair, could you, could you cast a painkilling charm on my leg? Here."

Yuck. My Yew wand, in the flesh of Pettigrew? This man was paranoid.

"'Analga'" cast Macnair, as Pettigrew takes a breath. He takes the wand from Macnair and cuts his shin on the front. Blood starts to flow, but he picks up the twig, and cast a stitch, shabby but effective for the time duration. He picks the bloodied wand, engorges it, and touches its holding end to his eyes with reverence.

"I do not have a proper body. My wand shall have to be carried by you, Pettigrew. I had the copy of the ritual required to get me a body, but I lost it in the old body I inhabited. I know of the ritual, and you will have to perform it to raise me to life. But that is final. I would first want a hominid body, for the ritual requires me to form the Notochord with the CSF. Mac air. Transport yourself to a safe site we used in Scotland. I had organised meetings during the shutdown of 1975, remember? Pettigrew Apparation got over such distances will be recorded. Daylight will be our bane. We should seek refuge in places that protect your identity. I believe even the darkest corners of the wizarding world would now be searched for plucking us for me there. I shall have to check a place. Again."

I fly, the air my medium, while they Apparate, side along.

* * *

Little Hangleton.

Bertha would surely have informed Dumbledore of this specific site. She knew my plan of making 7 horcruxes, but it mattered not, for I have been crumbled too much. Maybe I will, into the future, but I am no prophet. I seek to conquer the present.

The knowledge that Dumbledore and the ministry know of this site, would surely hinder my access to the Gaunt shack, but I had different plans. The graveyard behind the Riddle manor had hosted my father's corpse. The old Transfiguration master might get hold of that parchment with the potion making recipe, but nobody was fast enough to accomplish such a feat of doing everything within a day.

I reach the manor. The weather is cold, slightly humid, and I remember that the potion had to be made in a medium where the humidity was high in the air. Winter it was, then. The old Scotland farmhouse, would be perfectly suitable for making the potion.

I weave through the broken floorboards, passing the grey fog that doused the evening. It had darkened, with impending rain. The sun was visible within clouds, darkening by the minute. I assume a shell, covering my formless being with a slight viscous feel. It was the effect of using horcruxes. After your soul was split, you become... your soul discovers the need to... be self sufficient. To make up, for all costs, because this body, this man, has to cope up with the part that he has. So this hardened soul, poetically, accepts the other horcruxes, while succumbing to mortal feelings of remorse, and gains all the optional extras that were locked out due to the average soul's laziness. I had gained whatever additional is possible from adding a new soul to oneself.

So, naturally, I wished for what your average invisible man wishes for. To become visible. I use this force to wrap me, appearing as a humanoid shape. I know that the body I shall get from the old potion will just be a homunculus, with no features resembling my old handsome look. Maybe if I were reborn with replacing the snake venom in the list of ingredients, I may have a better visage. A suitable replacement might be beetroot juice (Yes, the author has read Asterix and the Black Gold, thanks for asking).

The only jubilance I feel was the return of my wand. Though the means were a bit disgusting for the class I maintain to my persona, my wand had opened to me my old self, the Dark-Lord the world feared. I had dreams of getting a new wand nightmares in which the wand didn't chooses me, and weird fantasies of obtaining the mythical Deathstick... well, you get the point.

Tom Riddle's grave. I stop by the side, looking at the weathered tombstone. Fifty one years had passed. The rain starts, and I look like a disillusioned man, with the water tumbling off from where my shoulders should have been.

My 'hand' touches the tombstone. I feel it. I might require one more horcrux to actually touch it, but the very definition of feel, felt fulfilled.

I plunge my hand below the soil. I had the strength, I knew it. I punched through the coffin too. I touch the sternum. The recipe requested a long bone, freshly picked. I know I will not be able to cast a spell for determining the hierarchy, but I also know, that this corpse had to be protected from Dumbledore at any cost. Assuming horcruxes failed.

I visualise the Dark Mark. I call, as the two idiots appear. It had worked. The protean charm had actually accepted my modification of specificity.

"Pull out the corpse out of this tomb. I believe the grandfather might suit. Cut open the other side, but place it back as it is."

Later, when it had started to truely become night, they complete the job. I stay invisible, my voice guiding them. "Pick the thigh bone out. Not that one, my father's thigh bone, you.." Imbeciles.

"Dig out a section of the ground.. over there. Cast the anti-summoning ward. Cast the charm that makes it escapes notice. Along with some kind of mild dog repellant."

This serves dual purposes. Backup, for one. And if Dumbledore pokes his nose over here, he would find my father without a bone. That might cause an anticipatory response from him, but let him get worried.

"You told us to come there. And we felt the mark burn, my lord. We were waiting for your arrival."

"Very well. Let's go there."

One ingredient down, three to go.

* * *

 **More reviews, please.**

 **And the trial ended in that chapter itself, Son of Whitebeard. That Elphias talking with Dumbledore scene was placed when the trial was coming to an end. Or if you meant a scene with Dumbledore, Sirius, and Fudge, I'm sorry that I couldn't include it here.**


	21. Gaunt

**Chapter 21: Gaunt**

* * *

This is Healer Greythorn on the weekly radio program, the mother's favorite, the Healer in you! Let's welcome our dearest patients, whose complaints are the day to day evils that the average charm cannot combat. These evils must be fought in the battle between the caduceus and them. Welcome. First, we have the stub on the toe. Oooh. That one hurts, doesn't it, people? Ah. But the greatest mothers know the best solution.

Understanding the problem is the best solution. We, at the Wizarding world, have much more important works than the old muggle in the house, right? Hey there old Muggle! What do you do for that? He leaves it, time heals, but we won't spare that time, eh. That's why we have... the charm for removing pain! It is truly a miraculous- oh, right.

People, there is an important announcement that is brought to you first by the Wizarding Radio. Cornelius Fudge has been selected back again as the minister of Magic, by an almost full court of Wizengamot. The public poll organised by our channel has come on top again. Our head reporter shall discuss this story at the site, people, today, live at the Ministry of Magic, and we shall present a full cover on this issue. Cornelius Oswald Fudge, had been publicly demanded to step out of office, following recent events, culminating on the escape of Peter Pettigrew, on the first of November in the early morning, three days back. Following this recent development, we assure you, Minister Fudge is going to take care of this god-given opportunity to save his seat, don't you think, Madam Weasley? Madam Muriel Weasley is here with us tonight, on The Healer in you! Stay tuned, cause Celestina Warbeck's comin' on the floors. Listen to her song, Kissing under the Mistletoe, while we come back.

* * *

"Forensic reports of the two men were submitted in the office sir. It seems only the Killing Curse was cast, but there are signs that point to Corpse 1 killing Corpse 2, before turning the wand on himself. Of the two criminals, only Macnair could have had his wand, but both the dead had their wands with them. Pettigrew would not have taken the wand sir. That I can assure you." Tonks finished her report, as a person wearing the garbs of Maintenence came up.

"Kingsley! I've been looking for you in your room. We have a small problem. The centaur commission had sent a few tribunals to argue for their rights in that blasted trial room. Our men brought them through the Atrium. They saw it."

"What? The statue. Oh. Damnit." Kingsley slapped a hand to his forehead. "We had to remove the bits and pieces, and the head offices said we might use the remnants as such."

"Oh, so they what? Broke it down?" "The three centaurs kicked the statue sir. The entire thing fell back. The janitors are trying to clean all the rubble."

The centaur depicted in the fountain of Magical Brethren had looked too subservient, and so they had taken offence. "Good thing we don't have a house elf commission. Hell, why don't the goblins start protesting? They look like beggars in the fountain..."

"Nah, you haven't seen the one they have at the bank. It's inside, you probably won't have seen it. They have one large painting and statue of the mighty Goblin King, standing on top of Human corpses, with a goblin army. The statue is worse. Humans look upon them like house elves in it. They look at our statue. Think of us in that one. Laugh. Go."

"So, Tonks. Collect all this and submit to Madam Bones. Let her document all that we do. They usually shout at us in the end for everything."

* * *

Harry entered the office for the third time this week. Dumbledore had sent for him again, nut this time, with both Hermione and Ron. Luna hadn't been invited, it seemed.

There was a lot of paper cuttings on the table. Harry looked over at one of them, which was surprisingly from the paper of the very day, saying

"-thousands of bats were spotted in the direction from Spain to the northeastern borders. This continuous migration of bats as soon as the sun sets has set birdwatchers in confusion. "More bats seemed to join the stream everywhere. It was like.. a river getting tributaries." Said Mister Timothy Grey, a tourist in Madrid."

"All these paper cuttings are about bats. I wonder what Dumbledore is hinting at?"

"Vampires." Said Hermione, just as Dumbledore entered the room. "Very good, miss Granger. Yes, indeed. Vampires. I'm afraid they have gone for the death of one of their comrades, Baron, or ex-baron, Amadeus. His grave in Germany was stabbed with multiple wooden stakes, by what the public will say zombies. The graveyard was lined with garlic, allowing him no chance of escape."

Hermione had a look which spelled out Aghast. "Inferi?" She mouthed, as Dumbledore nodded. He then explained for the confused looks of the boy's. "Inferi are corpses summoned to animation by a practitioner of the darkest of magic. And with my suspicions about Voldemort not trying to cross the border, with no reports of long distance Apparation recorded in this week, there remains only one possibility."

"Is it Grindelwald?" Asked Harry. "Yes, that is what I suspect."

"Come over here, children. For now, we ought to be focussing on Voldemort first. See this memory, which I acquired from Bob Ogden, uncle of my dear friend Tiberius Ogden. It shows the behaviour of the Gaunt family, the maternal side of Lord Voldemort. As you would probably know from the history of Hogwarts and wizarding culture, Madam Gormlaith Gaunt had already upheld her theories of Pure blood supremacy when she stalked James Steward and Isolt to the school of Ilvermorny, but the line still succeeded after she died in the hands of William. Many more Gaunt descendants survived, mostly due to the family's succession in the male line, and they always attended Hogwarts. With the information on Voldemort from Bertha Jorkins, I have confirmation that Voldemort shared a special connection with his wizarding ancestry. For now, we will limit ourselves to studying Tom Riddle's past, and recognize every possible weakness."

"The Gaunt household, as we will see, hosted the three people when our dear Mr Ogden visited them the event which can be placed well before the Second World War, around the autumn of the year 1925. Marvolo, the father, and his son and daughter. His son, Morfin Gaunt, was a student of mine, in Hogwarts, Slytherin, of course, being direct descendants of the line of Great Salazar himself, while his daughter, interestingly, never attended Hogwarts. Homeschooled, mostly because the father did not believe in free women, she taught herself magic, and had basic potioneering techniques taught to her by portraits of ancestors. The home was rugged, and Marvolo had very low sources of income, and thus, we can put those factors to blame when it comes to him requiring a servant, a slave, for working around his home. Merope Gaunt knew basic magic, potion making, and cooking. The visit of Bob Ogden was in lieu of Morfin, who, soon after failing his NEWTs, had gone to such extents as to use the Unforgivables on unsuspecting muggles. Although records don't specify the curses used, we can assume these were the Imperius, and the Cruciatus, because no deaths were reported in the village of Little Hangleton."

"Well, Mr Ogden then approached the Gaunts, and we'll see what gaunt experience he had with them. I would want you to notice intently, and Harry, you must translate Parceltongue to your friends wherever required."

"You know Parseltongue, don't you, Professor? Otherwise, how..." "Yes, Miss Granger, an astute observation. Now let's see the memory."

They went in.

"Did that hissing come with any wording, Harry?" "He said you are not welcome. Pretty useless, saying that to a person who doesn't know parceltongue, though..."

"This old man must be Marvolo. That means that one, the one with the hair..."

"He sings to the snake. I think this one is Morfin."

"He looks a bit cranky."

"She is.. Merope? I see no resemblance..."

"Oh, so Merope is YKW's mother? Whoa. I didn't realise... he said maternal, but... so that's Voldemort's mother." "Ron said the name. Didn't he?" "What name? Yeah, I guess I did."

"Why the heck do they speak in snakey tongue?"

"I guess they didn't want Ogden to know whatever they say. They are just arguing and scolding Merope now."

"I know that they want to avoid Ogden, I just wanted to complain about it all out loud."

"Shhh. Is that? Whoa. That must be Voldemort's father. He looks just like him. Ginny would have had a blackout."

The room was now full of hisses. Before Ron could ask, Harry held out a palm, telling him to wait. After a minute, when Ogden started running, with Morfin trailing, Harry told the conversation, pointing at Marvolo and the crying Merope for emphasis then and there. After that, he turned to Dumbledore, who had remained silent since they had come in.

"So, I guess Morfin got arrested for messing with the muggles, but still Marvolo would have been here. How would Merope and the count get together? Marvolo doesn't look like the allowing father.."

"Actually, he got pretty easy off the muggles. It was his attack on Bob that got him stuck. Marvolo resisted when Bob brought in several Ministry officials, and Marvolo attacked them for his son. They both got locked up safe in Azkaban, after which Merope Gaunt was free to do whatever she pleased. She cherished a passion for the handsome young man, who had long remained an unreachable grape in her eyes. Now, we would have to postulate and assume many instances, because there are not many sources that give us evidence of the old misery tramp that lived in isolation outside the village."

"But along with the multiple events that link out Voldemort's life, we have to identify certain artefacts that we come across. For instance, did you notice the ring that Marvell brandished?"

"The one he said had the Peverell coat-of-arms?" Asked Ron.

"Very good, Ronald. That ring, contained this very stone, whose story is a very different session." He held up a stone, on which Harry could recognize a triangular shape. "But also important, is the locket, the one on Merope's neck. It was a great family heirloom of Salazar Slytherin, and it is a key point to notice along the trail of clues. As you will see, in further classes, Voldemort relied on such great artefacts to raise himself to a greater level, while stooping further into a unforgiving mixture of Dark Arts and cruelty."

"I give you homework. Of a sort. Find out more about such heirlooms and artefacts, in wizarding history and mythology. If it has been lost for centuries, look into it more deeply. Preferably related to the castle and the Founders of Hogwarts, because Voldemort... no. First attempt on this assignment. I shall tell you more when you have done. The blindfolded man feels for more precise details than the one with eyes wide open. Go on. I shall tell you the date for the next class."

They left the room.

* * *

It was Friday now, and Ron had taken up to scribbling Harry's and his names each day, and asked the twins to put it inside. They had good sportsmanship. They did the same with their name, dropping it twice per day. Today, as Ron was writing, they came by Anand plucked off the notes from Ron to put it in. "I haven't completed writing that one yet!" They didn't care. They just put in the names for fun, and fun they did have. Harry smirked at Ron, as he whispered. "Mate, it was your name. I completed writing mine. The paper only had your name with Hogwa. H-O-G-W-A." He spelled it out. "I didn't have time to write the full name."

An age line had indeed been drawn around the Goblet, and moreover, Mrs Norris had stationed herself near a working alarm clock placed near the entrance (It used batteries. Even Dumbledore wasn't sure how it worked in such an area with magical interference).

Krum, and most of the Durmstrang students had come on the second day, and dropped their names into the Goblet, in an extremely orderly fashion. Another talk was about their Headmaster, who had stayed during their activity, and had clapped loudly with shouts of "Bravo, Victor, Bravo!" The twins had taken to screaming "Bravo" for the days after, especially for the Slytherins, and it was quite disconcerting to have Bravo screamed in your ears too. Warrington had aimed for a punch to Fred's jaw, but had missed, hitting the Goblet instead. Flitwick gave three weeks of detention, along with a well received deduction of a hundred points from Slytherin. The twins enjoyed that moment, sharing their enthusiasm with shouts of "Bravo! Filius! Bravo!". Flitwick actually smiled for that.

* * *

"How will the selection be done, Professor?" It was the random class for Saturday, during which most students showed very little enthusiasm for classes. McGonagall was conducting a small test for the class, and while most of the students had completed their demonstration part of their long questionnaire, Hermione asked this question. The class fell to the quietness that was previously seen in Binn's class when he had discussed the Chamber of Secrets.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"How will the selection be done, Professor?"

"I won't normally do this, but, seeing as we have five more minutes till the day's classes end, let me see. You all know the development of the Sorting hat? It originally belonged to Godric Gryffindor. There is a complex charm for influencing an item to gain a consciousness. This would be a transitional state, between a total animated vegetable and a truly sentient being. There is a long calculated series of progressive functions, which you may get to study if you took NEWT level Arithmancy, and there is a set of inscribed runes to counter as a failsafe. Anyhow, the final structure is enabled to make important decisions, analysing worth, faith, and other qualities. The Goblet of Fire is designed pretty much in the same way, but it recognises schools and pupil experience. It is usually tuned to the names of the schools, while there is no regulation on the number of participating schools. That was because the schools in Asia once attempted a selection for their own tournaments, and there were eight schools authorised."

"So, point one. Each school gets one champion. Two. The champion would be the best student of that all possible candidates. Three. It loses its light after each selection, and requires a time to reenergise. And now, the bell rings. Go off. I am leaving you all without any homework, because I know none of you will complete it. Enjoy the weekend and Monday is double Charms, isn't it?" As Hermione nodded and left, McGonagall collected their answer sheets for the theoretical part of their questionnaire.

* * *

 **I am not going to type out the entire memories shown by Dumbledore, but only the gist and the reactions of Ron and Hermione. JKR has already described the memories in full detail, and read Chapter 10, The House of Gaunt, of HBP, if you are the one to check if I am giving their expressions correctly.**

 **Please Review!**


	22. Four Champions and the usual Bla Bla

**Chapter 22: Four Champions and the usual Bla Bla**

* * *

The hall was once again full. It seemed the only times they were free to eat without the full crowd was for lunch, and today, it didn't even mount to that. Lunch had been postponed, with instructions for the students to get snacks at their common rooms, as the lunch would be organised as a grand feast by 4 o' clock. All the three school headmasters were at the table already, and they had goblets and drinks arranged, although they supposed it was all just the formality.

The twins were having an extremely stressed heart, and they expected it to blast as soon, as they expected the verdict. The final one. They had very high hopes of participating in the tournament, and they even had made specific dealings, which they called the promise of Menelaus (Greek myth: All suitors for Helen, the beautiful, had sworn that the ones who failed getting her hand in marriage would not blast off the head of the winner. As Menelaus won, all the other contenders helped him win the Trojan War).

In this case, it meant that if one twin got selected, the other would help him throughout the contest, and would do all the helping, and most importantly, will not strike out with spite. They both eyed each other, as Dumbledore welcomed them all.

"Greetings, students, for this is the grand ceremony of the drawing of the names of the great champions of our schools! It is a wonderful moment, and we have the official announcement of the judges, and preliminary instructions will be delivered to contestants after their names come out from the Goblet. Please step forth when I call your name."

"How many more preliminary instructions? That makes it sound as taxing as the tasks." Fred whispered, and it took a few more minutes after which something interesting happened.

The light from the Goblet turned to Red, as there were multiple 'oooh's and 'aaah's. The twins contributed to more sound, as Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment that flew out.

"Miss Fleur Delacour, from Beauxbatons!" Applause ringed, as they could see Harry shout among the sound. "Your friend goes there, Hermione!"

"Do you think the Goblet will select any juniors? After all the names..."

"Nah. It weighs magic. Those forty plus students who gave us a sickle per head for dropping their names in, they won't have a chance. And, if that bloody Goblet selects any one of them, I'm gonna pour kerosene in it and..." he trailed off, as the Goblet changed to red once more. "Victor Krum, of Durmstrang!"

With the applause, much louder now, rolling in, amidst shouts of 'Bravo', George had a brainwave. "Hey, I think it's coming in alphabetical order, surnames. So our names have a chance at W!"

The Goblet lighted up once again, as another name flew out. Dumbledore squinted as he caught it. He looked up, with a frown, and called. "Harry Potter. Of Hogwa."

Dumbledore's fingers shook, as he looked at Harry, and the twins above him. Harry jerkily stood, with Fred kicking his back slightly. They could sense the tension in the moment, as Neville awkwardly clapped. "Go on, Harry. Go."

"There must be a mistake, Dumblydorr..." began Madame Maxime, as the cup lighted again. Dumbledore fumbled at the paper, and caught it, and read out. "Fred Weasley. From Hogwarts school."

George initiated a 'Sonorus' inspired clapping spree, and soon, the sound for Fred rolled in the air, as he grinned, and with a hi-fi with George, he walked towards the Table, pulling Harry with him. Fred turned back, as Harry had a white faced look, eyes widened at Snape, turning to Dumbledore, swallowing. Fred could feel the excitement in his fingers. George whistled, and then started clapping again, but this time, nobody joined him. Dumbledore pointed at the door to the left, as they both went in.

"Didn't expect that, did you?"

"Dunno, I guess. I got shocked like.. I didn't know. It was all Ron, even that bit of paper was in Ron's writing. Why does it always..."

"Chill. You won't get arrested or anything. I am afraid we will though, what with dropping your names in. We thought nobody will notice. Good thing Snapey ain't a judge. The look he gave us. You, mainly. He was gonna pickle us with salamanders whenever he gets a chance."

They went in a room, dimly lit, but with a cozy appearence. Krum and Fleur had taken seats, as they looked at them."Hey Harry! What's? Is this the new champion of Hogwarts? Asked Krum, as Fred offered his hand. "Fred Weasley. Harry here is also selected as a champion, by the way."

"Oh, nice. I thought they said only three-"

The doors opened again, as Dumbledore entered, with half the faculty joining in, along with the people from the Ministry. "Harry, how did you enter? This is... you would rather use the name of a different school to enter? How cheap is that, my boy? I hope you have an explan-"

"Sir, I never wrote that. It is not even my handwriting, please. It was a friend of mine. And he didn't have time to write it properly. Sir I can explain..."

"I assume Mister Potter has asked Mister Weasley to write for him. The requirement of pride is unquenchable in such juvenile-" Snape was abruptly stopped from talking, as Moody limped in, a bit late. "Hogwaa?" He chuckled, assuming a grotesque facial expression. "Good lord, Potter, I won't have thought you'd have the guts for that."

Karkaroff and Maxime, who had gone straight to congratulate their victorious students, now came to the topic of Harry. "How is this even allowed, Dumbledore? Cheating to enter? Ask him to prove it. Veritaserum-" "I wouldn't advice Veritaserum for students, Igor. It would maybe suit if he submits his memory for confirmation." As soon as Snape said this, Dumbledore cut across. "Veritaserum would suffice. I hope that would be enough." He winked at Harry and whispered. "We don't want unnecessary problems, especially to Ronald from Molly." Then, resuming a fresh tone, he continued. "Congratulations, Mister Weasley. And Harry, please be prepared. If they approve your innocence, they might ask you to compete in the tournament too."

"And if they think I am guilty?" "Then you may have to be detained for a year."

"Who's they, sir?" Fred asked tentatively.

"We judges." Dumbledore replied cheerfullyand left, as Bagman smiled at Harry. "Don't worry, boy, I don't think anyone can lie with such a straight face. You'll have a chance at the Triwizard cup for sure."

Crouch frowned, and with an expressionless face, he left along with the others. McGonagall stayed a bit longer.

"Good, very good, Mister Weasley. Good luck too, for the tasks up ahead. Mister Potter, I hope you get through this, but..." she shook their hands, and left. "So, we can go back to our common rooms?" Fred shouted, as McGonagall replied "Yes, yes. Go." Without turning back. "Come on." Fred pulled Harry over by the collar and pushed him forwards, not allowing him to get back to the 'I'm shocked out of my wits' state.

* * *

"How the bloody hell did you get in?" Ron shouted at Harry, as he punched Ron in the nose. "You put my name in. You bloody..."

"What the heck! I ... didn't you ask me to put your name-" "No he didnt, Ron."

""Kepp your mouth to yourself. Harry and I thought of entering this..." "You thought. You thought of entering it, Ron Weasley, and if I get detained an year, I will get your head on a pike before I get..."

"Cool down, mate. We both thought of..."

"You entered my name in. Why can't you get yourself in, and just leave my head in rest for a single year? Why do I always have to get into the trouble..."

"Mate. Stop this. You are getting into the tournament, and you are gonna win it. You got a good chance." "Only that he is competing a world famous Quidditch star, a Veela and... and..."

"Complete that sentence, Mister Finnigan, and accept a gift from us." Fred was standing by the doorway, his shirt untucked. "So who is joining? We've got a Gryffindor party downstairs." "And we managed to get butterbeer. Cheers, champion!" George came up and clanked his cup with Fred's.

"Come on down, Harry, nobody is, was and will be jealous of you. Maybe some..." Said George, eyeing Ron."But ignorable. Come on down. We've got more bottles."

"I am not coming down. Why does everything happen to me? Go on, everybody. I'll just sit here. All cause of Ron... Hey, did you get any of Rosmerta's?"

"Knew he'd come around." Fred whispered, as he slapped Ron on the backside of his head, and held him in a hold. "Mind your business, Ron. Heard that, ever?"

"You... were he ones... you put s name in!" Ron choked, and broke Fred's grip. "Gah, stop it. You're as guilty as me."

"Cormac, step away from that bottle before I hex you. That's for our other champion." Fred held out the butterbeer to Harry, as he muttered a thanks.

"Mister Potter, the judges have called you for an inquiry. Please come to the headmaster's office. Said McGonagall, peeking in, as everybody hid their bottles.

"I'll have that, thanks." Leered McLaggedn, as he snatched the bottle from Harry's hands, and it went to Fred's hands within another minute and a smack.

* * *

The room had no other people. All of the other judges, and Harry had left. Only the headmaster and the Phoenix. The Headmaster was talking to himself, like some sort of a mad science professor.

"No other reasons. Not anyone. Only a classmate."

"Essence floats. Balance steady."

He poured more of the blue liquid, oily but not sticking to his fingers. He mounded a clay like substance in his hands, and then placed it carefully on the table.

"Long. Thready." He looked flustered, and then moved towards the pile of silver instruments. He took a tube like object, and pierced the clay. It blew up a brown smoke. Dumbledore picked up the cup as the smoke condensed, forming a muddy solution. He consulted a diary, and left for picking up his glasses. "Brown. Coincidence. Nothing planned. Chance event."

More than this was expected by the headmaster, that was certain. He impatiently swivelled a blackboard full of markings. "Nothing was planned. But that cannot be. This was never. Harry will survive, that's for sure. But there isn't much chance for..."

He just noticed that he did not close the tap of the boiler, from which the blue liquid was oozing. He rushed to close it. He then returned to the board. "Goblet chooses Harry. Harry allowed for tournament. Harry competes. Survives. Then what?"

"Gellert arrives. Assumption, that is. Then? Won't come in the castle, that is for sure. But he won't start with Germany. No, he would want something. Grand. Anything."

"Tom does the ritual. Bones have been removed. Fresh bones means he has done it. Enemy? No. No. He would want a powerful source. Not just anybody. Who? Harry? But he hasn't done anything for this. When I see this, Voldemort has already removed bones of his father."

He usually did this for his penceive, whenever he decided to peruse it, it was an ambiguous time. He glanced at the calendar and the clock for them to be stored in his memories.

He sat back in his chair, with a deep sigh.

"Could this be just a teenage fancy? Heights of coincidence..."

Phineas Nigellus peeked in. "I say, Dumbledore. You're having Insomnia. Beetroot would be good for you."

* * *

"Now we calculate the energy difference between the higher compounds and the base units. Use the modified Joule's formula for this, and calculate the energy that the revitalising potion gives. It is simple, though, and don't forget that the energy would be in kilocalories, considering the usage of the elements of higher mass."

They were in Arithmancy, and Hermione was bored, for the first time. The girls had gone to their dormitories early, and she had had to wake up early for her class in Arithmancy. So, she hadn't seen Harry since he got selected. Of course, he had come in late, back after Dumbledore had called him, but only the boys and Lavender were awake at night, as narrated by Lavender. Harry had been decided not guilty, and he had to participate in the tournament. As much as him being not guilty pleased Hermione, the image of the dead body of the previous Triwizard tournament was unsettling. What was more disturbing, was that they had chosen to continue with the tournament after a chimaera had eaten off a champion, and had only stopped after a judge had been killed by the stare of a cockatrice.

" 9629640 Joules, 2300 in kilocalories, Professor Vector. Per 300 ml of solution ingested."

"Till the fourth decimal point, Miss Granger." "Its round in kilocalories, Professor. Two thousand three hundred point zero zero zero ze-"

"Good." Said the professor as she completed the calculation on the board herself. "Twenty points to Gryffindor. Now work on this question. How long does it take for the yellow radiation of sunlight to condense a acidic solution of moonflower essence? Wavelength is 580 nanometres for simplicity. Which potion would you need it for? Remember, that part will only fetch you a mark. The theory exam might ask the main question for a whole 18 marks. Magical quality of solution is 33w. Condensing temperature will have to be high, calculate that first. I'll come back in a jiffy." She left the classroom, after which the classroom of top students scraped upon their papers.

Ernie pointed at Susan. "Pass me those logarithmic tables."

* * *

"Venus has moved, notice that? I can't see Jupiter too, for that matter." Complained Parvati, as they were sitting with their handheld telescopes. "That means impending disaster, you know that? Parvati, change the view, see there, it's the eastern sky. Identify... um... this one." Ron pointed on the star map. "And... That one will guide you to the... lemme see. That's Ursa Major, ain't it. Then you will see that towards... I think north." "Ron's flirting." Snickered Seamus, as Parvati turned and scathingly said "If he is, he doing it better than you."

"Please record the major change you observe. Today's class is specifically aimed on you finding that change." Called Professor Sinistra, as she swiped past. "The Professors were longer robes, don't they?" Ron whispered to Hermione. "It's for keeping the floor clean for Filch. See the stars. Stop talking." Hermione snapped at him. Harry wasn't speaking with Ron since yesterday. Hermione would expect this behaviour from anyone except Harry. "Alea Jacta Est, Harry. Anything done is done. Look to the future. Stop worrying about this." He had been in a severe tension for the entire day. Transfiguration had passed on without much incidents, but the class with Moody on Thursday was a bit distressing.

Harry cut the class, with Hermione having to explain his absence to Moody. Moody had taken the news lightly, telling her to leave Harry alone, with a grotesque smile. The experience of waiting outside the office for the ten minutes before he was free was tense for Hermione, after Ron and the others frightened to enter Moody to say that a student was cutting class. His class had been more or less practical, where he switched to basic hexes and jinxes that were easy to cast, rather than tongue twisting ones.

* * *

"The charm is Depulso. Repeat it after me. 'Depulso'. The banishing charm involves a series of changes within your wand, which you will study later under mechanics of charming. This is one of the favourite questions asked by NEWT examiners. Patronus, and this. For the mechanics, you will just have to tell two simple lines: Air Frequency changes, Force requirement. Very simple. Enough for perfect qualification. Remember this always. Similarly, the charm will have to be performed. Come on, Mr Thomas. Do the charm. Here pointing will be enough. Note the position. Bend your knee for maximum force generation. This is the opposite to the summoning charm, students."

It was their combined class with Hufflepuff in Charms. Flitwick demonstrated it with Dean, casting the charm onto the target, a straw filled dummy that they usually used. The charm banished it to a good distance, and they all clapped. "Try it, people. Everybody. Go on."

As he crossed Harry, depressed his wand to chest level, and asked him to try it again. Harry did, and it moved the same distance. "Why, professor? This height would suit."

"In the Mahabharata, the Indian epic, a warrior named Karna pointed to his enemy, the mighty Arjuna, at the head. Krishna, the God, tilted the chariot. That. Shot. Missed. It is easy to duck. Always aim to the chest."

Harry nodded, his eyes with false acceptance. As Flitwick moved, he rolled his eyes. Hermione moved close, as Harry started. "Don't. Start. Advising. I know you would have read that story, whatever it is, and I am seriously not in the mood for-"

"Nah, I was coming for a different reason. He didn't ask a single question, did he? About you getting selected as a champion? It seems all professors are avoiding that subject."

"Yeah. Next one is Divination. I don't think she will lose her chance."

* * *

Ron gaped, as he heard those words. It seemed like Trelawney was in an extremely good mood, when she started off the class with distressing comments aimed towards everybody. Not only him, everybody got a shock at her following words. "You, my dear. Don't fret. What have you seen, please show me that?" Harry was scribbling something dedicatedly. Neville broke a vase. "She pulled the paper, and saw the image drawn. "Oh, a straight line, determination. A single eye, aim." Harry closed his mouth with his hand, in an obvious gesture of laughing. "Is this a rope or a snake, my... oh, alright it has eyes. A snake, cunning, smartness. Black clothing, viewing death, but can be an occasion. A proposal, or love, my dear."

"Why is she predicting good things for him?" Asked Lavender. "She saw them two fighting in the corridors."

"My dear, I see it in your dreams that you will win this tournament. You have all the qualities for a great champion. The winds shall aid you." "Professor." Harry started with a suppressed laugh. "I wrote something in the margins." "V... Voldemort? But, my child, oh you poor dear, you have been seeing him, in your dreams. Oh.." she hugged him, as half the class started laughing. "He didn't have a nose. The straight line you said was his face." Ron laughed louder than everybody else, and longer too, as Trelawney fixed him with an intense stare.

"Harry, show that here, could we, Ma'am?" Seamus snatched the parchment, and with a look, doubled over in laughter. "What the... Ye are the next Picasso, Harry." He handed over the paper to the others, and as it travelled around the room, Trelawney plucked it from Parvati. "I haven't seen it!" Asked Neville, but nobody cared.

"You will have a good life, Harry Potter. I may not survive to see your next year, and so may the classmates of yours-" "Professor, are we all going to die?" Parvati asked, true worry showing up on her face. "Yes, my dear. Meteorite to our faces." Replied Trelawney, and Harry burst out laughing. "Oh. That was." He fell out the table, and while getting up, he still managed to laugh. "Ron, you are forgiven." Trelawney, obviously angry at the response to her prediction, went back to her seat, and started barking more instructions. The class resumed, with much less vigor, but more humour and wisecracks from the boys. Not from Harry, he was almost silent, but from Ron, who had gained a new mood that ended up with Trelawney downing three bottles of cooking sherry as they all left.

* * *

 **Are classes boring? I will link them up to future events, so stay tuned. But tell me if I should control excessive theory. A bit (cause I love writing that).**


	23. Weighing the Chances

**Chapter 23: Weighing the chances**

* * *

Ackerly, a first year Ravenclaw, peeped inside the Transfiguration classroom, on the second floor. "Is Fred Weasley inside? I have to take him for some photographs and wand checking..."

"Mister Weasley will come shortly after I complete the gist. Please wait outside, Stewart."

"Hand modifications are not as life threatening as throats enchantments. Never perform a throat transfiguration, even in times such as Murtlap breath intoxication. It is very serious, as the breathing gets impaired, and you might end up damaging the person, fatally."

"Perform the pincer grasping technique, Miss Johnson. It depends importantly on the positioning of your fingers. OWL levels just ask for the performance of basics. But now, you must identify the ideal position. Not all work comes from the Magic work. For this, you must first adduct your fingers, and flex the thumb inwards, facing the palm. Thus, you might reduce the work load of this charm to suit your needs. And in a duel, you will mainly be required to conserve your energy reservoirs. Need for Smartness precedes the need for power. Dodging a spell produces a much better effect than a poorly cast shield charm. Practice the three major hand modifications if you want to pass. Crabs, pincers. Frogs and such, webbed fingers."

"Downs syndrome" commented George, as they returned to their 'I-Am-Pretending-As-If-I-Am-Listening-But-Actually-I-Don't-Care' look, of rapt attention. "And Carnivores, Claws. Those three are a must for the exams. Take notes, while I build up on this base. Fred Weasley, you may leave. Please complete the essays that I set up. Remember that you would still have to complete NEWTs to get out, even though the tournament might let you past sixth year."

"Yes, Professor."

"Ackerly? Hey Where did he... Oh, so you went for fetching Harry. Where should we go?"

"Sixth floor unused classroom. Here, Professor Sprout asked me to give this to you too." Fred saw that Harry had another mirror. "Were you in Herbology, Harry?"

"No, Dance practice. Stewart came from Herbology." "Some reporters and Ollivander were brought in by Dumbledore. They called for me and asked me to call you two. Dennis has gone to call that French girl and a girl went to call Victor Krum."

"Why a mirror?"

"They've called Rita Skeeter."

Fred scowled, and began straightening his hair, and casting a 'Scourgify' on his face, with eyes and mouth closed. "Clean yourself up, Harry, you're sweaty."

"Yeah, isn't this Skeeter the one who wrote about your father and the.. um... World Cup?"

"Yeah, she's a witch. In the muggle sense. Perfect torture. Twiddles with your words, she does. Twists up whatever you say. I've seen her once." He imitated vomiting.

They climbed up, two steps a time, and as they reached the sixth floor, Harry had again sweated so much. The approaching Winter's effect was diminished inside the castle, and so, they both stood outside, panting, and cast more sweat drying and face cleaning charms. "This might come up in the Prophet, so keep smiling."

Stewart started going down, as Harry called. "Why is Ollivander coming? Stewart?" The boy didn't respond, as Fleur climbed up via another staircase. "Eet eez ze Weighing of ze wands ceremony. Your country's major wandmaker checks for problems een our wands."

She ran her fingers through her hair, and promptly went inside. "More like our only wandmaker" said Fred, as he went in. "Her ponytail was so cute." Said Harry, as he went in. Krum came a bit later.

"I'm going to forget that you said that, Harry."

Ollivander was standing inside, and he looked much more malnourished than when Harry had seen him. "Wonderful! Have all of you come? Perfect. Bozo, come here. This angle. Backdrop, window, suits of armour." "I know this, Rita, said the photographer, as he moved to a corner. Bagman was smiling, wearing yellow robes and an orange T-shirt.

Dumbledore was nowhere in sight. As were the other headmasters, along with Crouch. "Let us start with the photographs of the champions, and then the interviews. We are not going to get chances to talk with you children except on tasks. So let's start. "Miss Rita, is that a Quotes Quill?" Asked Crouch, as he entered. "Ah, Barty! Good to see you."

"Rita, I told you these were banned from professional interviews such as these. You can use them for Witch Weekly, but not... Not here, anyways."

She gave a obviously fake smile, and a surprised look, after which she placed them inside her pockets.

"Dumbledore will arrive shortly. The other headmasters are having a tea with him at his office. Please complete the photoshoot now. And the interviews. Photos with the headmasters can be done after the weighing."

"We were about to start." Mumbled Skeeter with clenched teeth.

She tried bringing Harry to the front, and afterwards, when the interviews started, she took Harry to a corner, and started her questions. Crouch walked over, and caught her red handed with the green quill. He shook his head, and plucked out the quill from her hands. She frowned, and used a regular quill then, albeit with uncomfortable hand jerks.

"So, Mister Potter, or may I call you Harry? Harry, how do you feel about getting into this contest? Battling against lots of stress, I suppose. How do you... feel.. about... cross it out, I wrote that again. Ah, yes, tell us, Harry?"

"Um... yeah, it's hard, yeah..." She licked her lips, and then drooped her eyes while biting her lower lip, ending up with an expression one would wear at a funeral. "Oh, you poor dear. Ok, let's see. What do you think of the reports that cover you up, and say that it was dropped by senior students in an attempt to mess with you? What do you think of it? Why don't people accept you cheating to get into the tournament? Wait a minute before I write all that down, please."

"Wait, what? I didn't enter. What they reported was true. Somebody put my name in, under some name. I.. I never..."

"Oh, please Harry, just continue talking. I'll fill up for you. And peeking into somebody else's paper is WRONG, you basta -" She violently turned to the side, where she had sensed somebody. That somebody was Dumbledore. "Well, Miss Skeeter, as is twisting a person's words. I'm sure I never heard Harry say that he put his name via Confunding the Goblet, and both of us know that it is false. Please, don't try to make a lie sensational. Harry, would you please come? The weighing will be done now, and the interviewing can be carried on in the end."

Harry moved along, as he saw Ollivander take a stool. They each dragged a stool from the side opposite to the door, and sat down. He smiled at them all, and leaned forwards. "Now, well done, people. You have all been lucky enough to get selected for this tournament. Congratulations." He clapped twice, his frail hands looking like they were about to break under that stress. Dumbledore looked up, as he knocked off a glass of chocolate, spilling into he floor. He gave a toothy grin that was masked by his moustache.

"This is the wand weighing ceremony, and I will have to check if they all are at fine conditioning before you go off. So, shall we start? Miss Delacour, if you would please." She handed over the wand, and stood by. "Ah, Is that, Mmm, marvellous, Veela hair? Nine and a half inches... Rosewood, inflexible... Quite in pristine condition, cleanly polished. If I might?" She nodded, and he cast 'Orchideus' and with it a bunch of flowers came out of the tip. "Perfect, Miss Delacour. Good luck! Now you, Mister Weasley."

Fred went forward, as Ollivander took it in his hands and twirled it. "One of mine, isn't it? Ah, I remember. Fabian Prewett. Slightly bendy, dragon heartstring core. Good condition. Take good care, boy, polish it. That makes it look good. 'Evanesco'." He pointed at the mess of Dumbledore's juice from the floor. Fortunately the glass had not broken.

"Very good. Very good. Mister Krum, you next. Hornbeam, dragon heartstring. Well, Gregorovitch's make, isn't it? Ah, wonderful. Ten and a half. Slight curve for better handling, wonderful. I've always admired his working."

"Mine was one of his last. He retired soon after."

"Avis. Ah, yours is in good condition, Mister Krum. You have kept it clean. Mister Potter, come along. We'll finish off soon. You have an interesting interviewing session next, and I would very much like to see."

Harry showed his teeth as Ollivander frowned at him. "Keeping your wand clean is like bathing. And this stinks. Yet, I remember it well. Phoenix feather core. Holly. Slightly flexible. As if it took place yesterday. It has been more than three years, boy. Keep your wand clean. It needs to be polished well, and wipe off fingerprints. Cleanliness is a virtue."

Harry smiled, embarrassed, and walked back as he conjured a glass of wine and handed it over to Dumbledore. "Good condition. All the best, boy. May luck aid you. You all."

Dumbledore interrupted."Garrick, could I get hot chocolate? I tend to avoid alcohol, but Rosmerta doesn't help me along that way with her mead."

Ollivander scowled, with a bit of a smile in his eyes. "Here, Albus." Harry edged forward as Ollivander handed him his wand back after the Headmaster got his chocolate.

"So, shall we continue? With the interview, I mean." Asked Rita, from the stool on the other side of the room. She clapped her hands, and called for Harry. "Miss Rita, I would prefer the photos to be taken first. It would be appropriate for us to return to our confines while you pester our wards with questions. Please." Karkaroff asked her in a curt voice, as Rita bit her lip and obliged.

The photographer evidently had a lot of time in his hands, for he kept calling for an encore. Fleur was most prominent on all photos, that was his excuse. Tired of photos, they all were served by a platter of hot chocolate, as Dumbledore hastily finished his first cup and grabbed another.

"Barty, could you go with the other headmasters to my quarters? I have a word to speak with our champions. I will be there in an hour."

As they shuffled out, Rita waited. "Continue with the interviews, Rita. I would like to escort them back too."

"What? No, carry on with your... um... talk with the champions. I'm sure..."

"I insist."

Resigned, and thinking of the recent widely applauded article in which Dumbledore had been described as an-

"Overgrown bat, yes. I read that, Rita. Charming. Please continue."

"Invasion of privacy with Legili-"

"That look is self-explanatory, Rita. And I won't be so obvious if I were indeed probing your mind."

"Mister Potter, come on. We'll continue." Harry pulled his seat towards where they had sat, an hour ago. "What do you think your parents would feel if they had been alive now?" She eyed Dumbledore as she wrote. "Tell it, boy, we don't have all day."

"Um, yeah, they would have probably shouted at the person who put my name in..."

"Assuming you entered on free will? Then? Wait, no, strike that out for the minute. Do you know who put your name in? Their motives, if any? Please do tell, our readers would like-"

"No. I ... I can't ... the judges have asked me to keep it quiet for the sake of the person who put it in."

"So, the judges know. And is it a student?"

Harry looked alarmed. Had he said student by mistake?

"Ah, so a student it is, then. What would your parents feel if you participated in this as a selected champion, instead of an accidental hero?"

"I think they would be proud, wouldn't they? I mean, this is a chance of getting... what are you writing, Hey, guys, she is writing something else. Not what we speak. Professor!" He turned to the other champions, and then to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore stood, and gave a one sided smile. "Well then, why can't we conduct an interview with all four of you? At the same time? That would be good publicity."

Bozo piped in. "Yeah, Rita? Remember the piece we did on the senior heads of the Wizengamot? They were like, I would rather be dead than... sorry. Try it!"

Rita glared at the champions, and then looked at the Headmaster. She sat down, and started asking questions.

While her questions seemed pointed at each champion, their answers had been correctly noted, at least for the most. She kept on gritting her teeth for every intrusion from Dumbledore, and at Harry too, generally.

"Your's is the special piece, champions. Ask your friends to read tomorrow's Daily Prophet for this. I'll leave now, Dumbledore, or do you want me to...?"

"No, Rita, I'll take care. You can pack and leave."

As soon as Rita left, Dumbledore called them all together. "Ah. I just had to inform you all that the first task will be scheduled in the month of January on the second week. It has not been finalised, but I would like to give the notice a bit early, for you all. It would be officially announced at the Yule Ball. I would ask you all to attend classes, even though they are not compulsory for you. We have arranged sessions for dance practice, for we had to postpone the tournament early on. That made up time for arranging for these. Do you all know how to waltz?" Everyone except Harry nodded. Dumbledore chuckled. "Well then, Harry. Attend the dance classes, and we would be conducting Quidditch practices after christmas, because we can't deny our fine students fun, and without practices, you may lose your touch."

"That's all. I cannot give you instructions for the task itself, as you will be notified an hour before the task about the challenge you will face. Remember in mind that the task will surely be one that would garner more spectators, as that is the main purpose."

"Open air? Sir?" "Possibly. And wands will always be allowed, and sabotaging another player is strictly advised against. No cheap tricks such as that will be enjoyed, and your head start in the final task, whatever it may be, will depend upon the marks we judges award you."

"Now then, leave for the feast. We have introduced food from America, courtesy of Ilvermony's fine house elves. Professor Fontaine from there is a colleague of mine. He had prepared a glorious menu for the tournament for the day of the Weighing."

"So each magical school prepares a menu for each event?" Asked Harry. As Dumbledore agreed, Fred asked "Which one did the feast for the inauguration?" "Mph, I would have thought you would notice, m'boy. It was our school. I prepared the menu."

Fleur went along a different corridor as they climbed down the first floor stairs. Krum waved, as he left along the southern corridor. "Go for lunch now. The dinner feast will be the big one."

As they turned, Dumbledore called. "Please tell that to Ronald. He would like to hear it."

They both went to their seats in the Gryffindor table, as Fred turned to Harry. "I was George, by the way. He said that I would have to take his part for the programs not involving danger. Said he was bored."

* * *

 _Mesopotamia. It had been a long time since he had set foot here. This was the site where the Great forest fire in the lesser gardens had been caused by his hands. The greater gardens had been an important site of magical history, where the great festival to Dagan had been held for years. The day had begun with his acquisition of the Firebolt, an British fast moving model with improved kinetics and further streamlining._

 _It had functioned well as a broom, while his cross country travel had been safely ignored by authorities, but his wand was not up to the mark. The mythical Cedar forest loomed in front. He had just passed Adapa's statue. The foolish fisherman had ignorantly heeded Ea's advice in not eating Anu's food of immortality. The forest was full of deciduous trees, mostly out of leaves, and the autumn glow appeared in the background. He chewed the mint in his mouth, as he looked at the disillusioned forest. It was hard to believe that such magic existed. A forest was not the usual target of such a simple charm. It had been guarded by Humbaba's monkeys, and he had requested an audience with Humbaba's minions a hour ago. The Assyrian merceneries who could be sent by Humbaba's in his aid could help a lot in overseas attacks, owing to their ability to manage a different form of Apparation._

 _The afternoon had dimmed a lot. The idiots who went in hadn't returned for three hours now. Grindelwald got impatient. An old man, with a walking stick had just come out of the canopy, the trees making way. He came to the front. "Our lord left us with his ... cough, his orders. We were to guard his radiances, forever. Nowhere is it that our help would help you. Nothing of our ... cough, cough. .. we would not be able to." "Whatever Gilgamesh sought, he got from killing your lord." "Enkidu killed our lord. Gilgamesh weakened him in unlawful trickery."_

 _"I ask for the final time. Will I get any of Humbaba's... I ask not only for his minions. I ask for assistance, nothing but that." Grindelwald pleading. Thankfully the world will not know._

 _"It was decreed by our lord, boy. Nothing leaves the vicinity of the forest." He swallowed. He took a deep breath. "Your cause will not be accepted by anybody, boy. You once had a cause, a goal. That was noble, while it did not necessarily help any but you. But now, you are submerged in the need for vengeance. This is not what Ea would prefer, nor will any god. Leave us now, and seek for aid elsewhere."_

 _He takes away something from there. Killing Dumbledore was not the prize. It is just the milestone. The man staggers towards the forest. Raising the dead to infuriate an enemy. Killing souls for fun. that was never the goal. He was Gellert Grindelwald. The need for doing such things was now beyond him. His victory was not in Dumbledore's misery. His victory must be the cause of Dumbledore's misery._

 _The man entered the forest, as the trees close. The silverbacks, while not native to that location, took their positions. The forest disappeared from sight._

 _The nearby tavern was full of wizards. Wine does not suit my taste, but informationsuits my ears. With a minor disguise, I walk in. I spot three werewolves (It was not the full moon today) in the front, waiting for the bartender to come. The bearded bartender came in a few minutes, carrying a barrel of water from the Euphrates. "River water has come!" Shouted a group of the wizards near the singing men on the far right. "What is the matter with river water?" Asked Grindelwald. "English? Why? Are ye new here?" A wizard standing next to the werewolves asked, in a heavily accented German voice. "Yes."_

 _"The water here has good functions, man. Walking sticks that get old are refilled here. As are staffs and magic rings."_

 _"What about wands?" The people of the Mediterranean often used walking sticks, while staffs were universal. Magic rings usually consisted of a wound core pointing towards the finger. They were fascinating, but when you point it the wrong way, you usually ended up cursing yourself._

 _"Maybe. We have no use for wands here. Let's try with yours. Go on."_

 _"He dipped his hand with the wand, as he tingling cold. When he pulled it out, he saw his wand look good. Nothing more. He attempted an Incendio, as the bartender shouted."Yer see here, no plucking out fires in here. Just repaired the roof with those dwarves calipers last week." The man had pulled out an impressive translating charm, but that didn't hide an accent._

 _"Sorry." "And no refilling charms in here, brutes."_

 _Another group went forward, as they plunged their hands into the barrel, most of them wearing rings._

 _Grindelwald took a seat. He couldn't do anything needed for his triumphing if he didn't reveal his escape. Dumbledore keeping it quiet was puzzling to him. The human to water transformation was an easy feat to accomplish. Dumbledore had left water flowing through the venous channels in Nurmengard, but someone as brilliant would have thought of that possibility._

 _He pulled out the essence of the Philosopher's stone, and held it. It glowed in the lamplight. It had darkened outside, and he was getting tired. Transportation on a broom for long hours tortured your private parts. His hair had to be trimmed along the sides. He conjured a mirror, as he saw the people behind him disappear in the mirror. He suspected that a shady place such as this would have its shaper of vampires_ _. He turned, got up, and approached them, his stool swivelling. "I heard the Coven found some traces of the person trespassing in the Baron's grave." He broke into their conversation, as the trio looked at him with bloodshot eyes. "Full to the brim, are we?" Chuckled Grindelwald. "We have no business with you. Even as mercenaries, we have our honour. You have none. Come, let's leave." The one wearing the long coat turned, as another followed him. "What do you propose? And what will I get?" Asked the third, not following the others. A woman._

 _"You will get rewarded."_

* * *

 _ **It is hard to write for somebody whose story might get diverging from canon, such as Grindelwald, what with the upcoming sequels to Fantastic Beasts. He is now trying to get accomplices, with not much success.**_


	24. Hospital Bads and Darkness

**Chapter 24 : Hospital beds and Darkness**

* * *

"Come on here. The clearing on the right is fifth year territory. Come on, all." Called Grubbly Plank as the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs slugged across the rain-soaked ground. The past week had given off showers, thunderstorms, and all else that the local weatherman had to predict. Cast Impervius on your shoes, people. And hold up your robes. Honestly, who would want to wear robes that long when you know it is raining cats and dogs outside, people? Common sense!" Called the professor, as she moved forwards. She was wearing a robe, ironically, though it did not touch the ground. Harry struggled with his robes too, while Ron and (mostly) Hermione chided him for that. "The first class after a full week of zero out-of-castle classes, and you choose to wear robes? And I thought you had the window near the bunker."

"Now, remove all jewellery. Put it here. Anything shiny. See here. Nifflers. They are rodent like animals, with a tendency to steal anything shiny. Much like magpies. Fast runners, impossible to find in the dark, and the best treasure hunters. Get one each from this crate."

After they all picked one, Padma shouted. "It took my earring!" "Tilt it upside down, and tickle the torso on the left side. No down, down. Catch it, catch it before it falls into..."

There was a collective sigh, as the earrings fell into the puddle of water in the ground. Padma sadly looked up.

"A summoning charm would have been enough." Said Hermione, as she said 'Accio' and the earring zoomed into her hand. She handed it over to Padma with a 'Scourgify'.

"Thanks." Said Padma, as Ron pulled Hermione. "How does that work? I mean, without saying the name of the 'object of desire'?"

"The name only helps with concentration. Long distance objects need it."Her Niffler nuzzled her collar, as she whispered "Adorable."

"So, a Niffler can dig 10 meters down to get a piece of gold. Nice sense of smell, and has a prehensile hand. Cannot be trained to do something. Extremely attracted to gold. Now, Hagrid will be annoyed if you mess with his Nifflers. I have a cup of twelve gold foiled balls, I'll just throw them around. Note the nose and tail of the Niffler when it moves towards the gold. That's where you spot its excitement. It knows value, so it may or may not respond to this gold foil, but worth a try."

Harry's, Neville's, Padma's and Lisa's Nifflers jumped from their arms, and began quarrelling midair for the ball. They fought so fast, that they lost the identity of being a student's Niffler. When the ball fell to the ground, one of them enclosed its hands over it, and in the next moment, it had disappeared, with the other nifflers beating the Niffler with the ball, while one held it upside down. The ball dropped, and Grubbly Plank picked it up along with another Niffler.

"See these. The white stoke near the tail. That shows it is an adult. After puberty, they develop a sense of selectivity. They only pick up things of value. Near the snout, you can see the the Jacobson's organ. That is an external sensory organ, through which it can sense pheromones. It elevates the nose, see that? That is whenever it exposes this organ, also called the vomeronasal organ, to sense gold. In children, it is not well developed, and it doesn't differentiate with sight. That is how you find out a child. I'll have to pick those four off. Using children is usually not advised. They can get vicious when provoked. Hagrid got them last mating season. Gestation is usually a full year. Note down more features. Keep these balls to distract them, and don't rub them wrong." She picked the one that got the ball."This..." She stroked towards its belly on the left side." See this pouch? That is where they store things. Try practicing that procedure."

"Why doesn't Dumbledore call us for more classes, mate? That one with YKW's parents was super creepy."

"I think he is getting too busy. With all that is happening."

November was almost over. They only had a few more weeks till the Yule Ball, and Harry thought he had gotten a hang of the waltzing thing. He suddenly remembered. "Hey, Hermione? Will you come to the ball with me? I don't have any partners to go with, and I have to get one."

As soon as he ended that sentence, he felt his foot slip. His back landed flat on the ground, as Hermione let out a hand. "Sure Harry." She replied.

"I'll let you lovebirds catch up later, okay. Bye." Said Ron, as Harry called after him."What? Lovebirds? Why you..." Ron had ran up the side corridor, stepping into dry tiles. The ends of his pants touched the ground, so they had ended up a bit muddy and dirty. Harry and Hermione walked over, and jumped the balustrade before the corridors joined. Harry leaned over, and climbed the left side steps, and waited for Ron to come through the right side. A sickening Crunch later, Harry ran down the right side, and laughed. He reached out his hand to Ron, with a "Not everyone who reaches out a hand is a lovebird, Ronnykins. Friends too." Ron declined the hand for a moment, then ducked while pulling Harry's hand.

* * *

Three hours later, and fed up of Calming Draughts, Harry glowered at the redhead lying down on the bed beside him. They were in the hospital wing, where Hermione had left them. Harry had fallen onto Ron, and had broken his leg on the way, while Harry's knee hit Ron in the shoulder, which had dislocated. Not mentioning Ron's ankle broken because of the trick step.

The side of Ron had the curtains open. Hermione had closed Harry's and so, Ron was Harry's eye.

"Malfoy is coming. Try to sleep, Harry."

"So, Potter! Got your body broken months before the tasks even start? Why that's a level of incompetence that even I wouldn't have predicted."

Ron opened his mouth to answer, but chose not to. Madam Pomfrey crossed them, with a smile of approval and a mutter about 'house unity'.

"We had a bet, you see, me and my father. On how long you would survive on your first task. He said five. Five minutes, mind you. I said you would have done a ten. You proved both of us wrong. Congrats."

"You haven't brought Crabbe and Goyle with you, Malfoy. Have they gained a little self respect?"

"Very funny. They have their dancing sessions now. You two would, too if not for your wise decision to hurt yourself enough to escape embarrassment? Isn't it a bit early? You should have waited 'til Christmas Eve. Then you would not be a disgrace to our school. And how did that brother of yours get in? The Goblet has no taste of selection, I'll give you that."

Harry smiled, as Krum came through the curtains near the bed.

"Malfoy here was just talking about us champions. Take this seat!" Said Harry cheerfully, as Malfoy swore under his breath, with words indescribable. Krum raised an eyebrow, as he asked. "How did you get hit? I heard it from her-my ni. She told me you had fallen off a few steps. I was looking for you, and here I come." "Came. Here I came." Corrected Harry, as he smiled. "I've had practice speaking English as soon as I got into the national team. How is the leg?"

"Oh nothing much" said Harry. Malfoy swiped back the curtains as he left. "Ron here got a more serious injury, but I'm fine, really. I am discharged in another hour, she just wants to make some checks before I get to leave." "Who?" "The matron. Madam Pomfrey."

They sat there, until the point where the conversation took off towards Quidditch again. Krum was an entertaining friend, but he usually diverted the topic to his own glory. "You said you had come looking for me. Why?"

"Ve found what the first task was. Ve believe that the dates are preponed." He said darkly. "We? And what? Preponed!"

"Yes, me and Polikoff. Ve got hold of a pamphlet issued for the tournament, and ve think this tasks are only unknown to us. The first task is" He paused for dramatic effect, and then, in an undertone, he whispered."Dragons."

"What? Oh no. It is the old announcement. They apparently leaked out information from the ministry, so the twins, I mean Fred and George Weasley, they prepared pamphlets of the old schedule and let it roam through Hogwarts."

"Oh." He looked disappointed.

"Yeah." "Yeah."

They looked at each other, Krum with an embarrassed smile. For some time after that, during which Ron mustered as much courage as to talk with Krum, all three of them were talking, as Madam Pomfrey ushered Krum out. She checked on Harry, noting vitals, and sent him off. She detained Ron for a day more.

* * *

"Professor Dumbledore. I searched for you all over."

"Oh, Miss Clearwater! How is the work at the Board? Junior to Damocles Belby, I heard? Wonderful. Curious, when I left, I told Minerva that I was going to see Rubeus. What is the matter?"

"The Board called for you, sir. They wanted me to ask you to reply to the checklists posted in the committee meeting on the... um the 5th of August held in the Conference Hall in the Ministry. Regarding the allocation of special funds with regard to the tournament."

"I'll come there." "No, sir. They asked for a written consent to this three checklists. They allocated the necessary funds, but they wanted to know if using... um, can I?"

She glanced at Hagrid, who was snoring loudly.

"Oh, no. No problems, although we can go out for talking about this matter. Anyways, classified is classified."

They left the hut, and passed the leftover pumpkins that Hagrid had eliminated for the Halloween feast decorations.

"They wanted this, this and the yellow files checked, sir. First one is decorations and invitations, and they have planned to keep the invites low to get a better press. Three reporters from the Prophet, or two, if you want. Decorations, I think they have checked most of the options. Professor Flitwick could do better than those at the organising committee."

Dumbledore skimmed through the files, and didn't find much to correct. "And I noticed something, sir. Only the export reports of the animals were leaked. The final task as per the original arrangements, the maze, that was never disclosed in any... anywhere. Sir. So maybe we can use that, for the third task. The maze idea was good, and I don't think,look here. Hippogriffs. We can use local animals too, for embellishment. Minimising costs in exporting can get a better press too, sir."

"I shall look into it, and inform the board myself. And the yellow ones?"

"The first task, sir. They marked it for instant reviewing. They are planning on a gauntlet, multiple tasks, in a row, and the champion crosses them all to the final challenge with imported creatures."

"We have arranged for 4 sarcophagi to be imported, from Egypt. I don't know about the order with the sphinx, it had leaked out, I suppose, but that itself would make it a surprise addition, don't you think?"

"Well, sir. I don't know, but the cross country importing of creatures of different species might be considered a violation after what happened with Scamander."

"Ah, that is the funny thing. You can get a horde of Cerberi from the Mediterranean, but arrested for trying to transport a Nifflers and Flobberworms."

"And Dawson agreed to give the sanctioning you requested for enhancing security measures. I loved that speech, Professor. They tried accusing you of not arresting Pettigrew when he was in the school, and you turned the topic into their low funding. And that also proved that Dementors were useless, like you wanted."

"I never wanted them here in the first place, Miss Clearwater. I have voiced my disapproval against usage of those vile creatures in the vicinity of criminals, and here they send them, threatening students. Well, let's come to this topic. How is Damocles? I believe Marcus, his nephew, he is studying in his fifth year?"

"They had a bit of a problem before I joined, sir. Mr Belby seemed to be a bit disappointed at his brother's lack of ambition. They haven't spoken since then. I joined soon after I graduated, sir. And another letter they wanted me to deliver, sir. I just remembered." She rummaged through her handbag, and plucked out a sealed envelope. "They said they wouldn't be coming to the tournament, sir. Dawson's granddaughter gave him dragonpox. They said it was all or none. And they don't want them students to get affected."

Is this official? Or do I have to..." "No, sir. It is official. They posted a notice to the media too, it might not be in the front pages though."

They had reached the entrance. "Would you like a cup of tea, Miss Clearwater? Or coffee?"

"No, sir. I have to deliver the support documents to the other greenhouse construction. The goblin tax advisors asked for the board to sanction funds in multiple accounts rather than a single one. The taxes would be lower in that case, we heard."

"Gringotts, then. Come on. I'll get you there by Floo from my office. Anything is better than Apparation. Dragon Alley branch?"

"Yes, sir. Not a problem, sir. I can go through..." "Nonsense. Come on, my dear. What is a Headmaster for, if not to help his students." They reached the gargoyle, and as they were climbing the stairs, Filch crossed by. "Ah, Professor! Those redheads are doing it again. Come on with me!" "Coming, Argus." Dumbledore opened his door, and let in Penelope. "I'm sorry, my dear. Use the Floo, and I'll return soon. Don't worry about leaving the door open. Goodbye."

"They turned the corridor into Blackness. Totally dark, professor. I would like to see them two whipped." "Oh, the twins. And I'm sorry, Argus. Whipping the champion would not be good looking."

* * *

"Garden tricks. When a friend throws a party out in the open, and you want to mess it all up, just use this. Based on the principle of the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, trademarked and copyrighted unfortunately. We have this solution that dissolves the pellet. Four hours of total darkness, and we give a free trial if you promise to use it on those snakes. Trial show now in exhibit, go to the western corner of the third floor. Approach from the right side if you don't want filthy Filch on your tails."

"Two galleons each."

"Isn't that a bit overpriced?" "Nah, if one buys, the others will too. We just need one..."

"I'll take two." Called Lee Jordan, from his spot within the crowd.

"Give me one!" "Two for me!"

"Told you. First call counts. The rest follow like sheep."

* * *

 **Reviews please. Short chapterthough, but the Yule Ball and the first task are in preparation. Stay tuned.**


	25. History lessons and Treachery

**Chapter 25 : History Lessons and Treachery**

* * *

 **Woo, 25 chapters, thanks for reading!**

* * *

I move towards the second series of stairs. The stairs were a bit arduous, seeing that most hikers that got to this spot came by the sea route. This island had been the place where I had modelled a pretty tiring piece of magic, by which I had created traps. Traps, in the normal sense, seem very simple, but the work that had been behind them... It went behind the Silence before the War between 1975-77. Designing such spells had been a fun experience, very much indeed. It in fact put your mind out of all the violence outside. Which I had propagated, of course.

Most were triggered to act at my absence. Thus, none of them responded, much less reveal their presence.

Greyback and Macnair trailed behind us. We had gotten back Fenrir with some of Macnair's secret contacts. Greyback had news from the werewolf legions in hiding. Fourteen of them had hidden in an old cave in Scotland. Twelve joined our ranks, while the rest were eaten alive. More werewolves were promised, but Greyback had no reason for that. Such a signal would surely be intercepted and screed by any junior Augur in the Department of Mysteries. And Greyback saw that they were trying to be unnoticed. Naturally, none had responded since the two weeks that had elapsed since they had made contact with the werewolves of even the Irish wilds.

"Faster. It seems a storm shall approach soon."

"My lord, the full moon has just passed. My cohorts are weak after yesterday's experience. I don't see the haste..." "Stop whining. Follow."

He panted, but saw the futility of trying to speak back. They just follow, as I glide along. The entrance guarded the entry of any organism, human or not, living or dead. I could not enter if not for the sacrificial blood to be delivered at the rock.

It is fate indeed that I, Lord Voldemort, am stuck waiting for these morons and werewolves, who, in their rightful place should be grovelling beneath my feet.

"My lord, Greyback has collapsed." Macnair shouts amidst the thunder. Rain started falling. Why is it that rain interrupts dramatic sequences in this author's storyline?

"Follow, then. Conjure a knife."

He sludges through the mud, tired, but scared. He takes a look at Greyback, and then levitates him. We cross the second and third sets of rocks, as we reach the cave. Rain had begun hitting him like needles now. He shielded for a moment, and now conjures an Umbrella.

The floor is brownish at the specific site. Must've been the Black House elf's blood. "Blood. A few drops. Here." I say. He shudders, most probably due to the cold. He cuts Greyback's forearm, on the prone side.. Blood spills, as Greyback opens his eyes. He clutched his Dark mark, and screams. It sounded more like a howl.

"Too long a cut. He can bleed to death. Now we wouldn't want that, would we, Macnair?"

He cringes. "No, my lord."

Greyback landed down on the ground, facefirst. Macnair caught him, as he howled in pain again. The cave door opened.

I glide in, and looked inside. It did not show much changes inside, except the stalagmites were almost reaching the top. The eerie glow of the central basin was very dim. Greenish light emitted by the basin gave the beauty to the otherwise normal cave. Nothing important had happened here, and that was why I had chosen this spot. Unplottable on maps, and in no way connected to me. I knew this spot when Wool's orphanage decided to choose this very site to plan a trek to. I had done some accidental magic upon some other orphans, (one of them named Bishop, I vaguely remember,) when I approached this cave, and that was it. "Would using a Lumos be dangerous here, my lord?"

"No. I could use some light." "Lumos"

The water was perfectly still. No sign of anything moving. "The basin is in the centre. I would need one of you to remove the veils, when we get there?"

"We swim?" Asks Greyback, aghast at that prospect. "Ha, I would like to see you try. But no. Reach for the rope there." Macnair put out his hand, as the boat came to the grey rock. I glide along the surface, as they bicker on which one should go on. The boat was small, but I had actually put up Smothering enchantments, that this one had no space to be large. Only one person, i.e. me, and a sacrifice could get in it. That sounded quite sufficient.

The cave had had low magical reserves. Multiple charms may not char the surface, but some curses might cause the entire structure to crumble. The boat hovered an inch above the water, as Macnair climbed upon it. It slowly moved, and none of my Inferi interfered. "Have a Lantern, Greyback. Greyback?" The werewolf had gone out, and ran back in at my calling.

"Get a lantern. What is that?" He held a branch of smouldering wood. "Lightning, my lord. We can't go past the rocks three feet from the entrance." The wood caught fire, as I noted the motion within the water near the shore.

250 people, from a village without a graveyard, had become servants of mine here. Every single one had been killed by me. Muggles had no place to serve in my ranks except when they died. Not a drop of wizarding blood shall be spilt to make soulless zombies.

We pass the water, and we near the basin. The green seared our eyes, and Macnair climbed out. The small island was enough space for three people to stand comfortably. Macnair looked in. "Is that the famous Locket of Slytherin, my lord?"

"Yes. I cannot remove it without the veils being removed." Weird. It did not even recognise my arrival.

"What potion is it, my lord?"

"The Drink of Despair. Change the air around us to become denser. Add the salt that we brought." "Barium?" "Yes. It would require me to cast a hex that turns it crystal clear. But that would be specific to me. It wouldn't accept you turning it that way." He picks the vial and fumbles on it. He catches it before it fell.

"Salt first. One pinch."

The solution turned red, as he shifted the concentration of the suspension medium. As it cleared to whiteness, I swear at him. "Wrong, you moron. One spell, and you miss it, plunge your hand in. Do it."

He inserted it, and picked out the locket, howling. His screams were louder than a pack of Greyback's minions. The locket fell on he ground, and as his hand melted off, I order him to pick the locket. He takes it, and with a painkilling charm and a 'Ferule' later, he climbed back in the boat. Those Inferi hadn't come up yet.

He climbs off, caressing his hand, which was... absent from the wrist. "There has been a prize for your idiocy, Walden. And also, there shall be another for your sacrifice. Do not weep, for the lord shall give your hand back."

We cross the cave wall, where Greyback rolled back the rock to its place. The rain hadn't subsided. Macnair pulled out the locket and laid it on the rock floor.

I look up at them. "Where is my locket?"

After some time, with Macnair knocked out with a couple of Cruciatus curses from Greyback (on my orders), Greyback prised open the hearts of the locket. A piece of paper fell out into the water. Greyback plucked it out, as most of the ink dissolved. He laid it on the rock, and cast a drying charm.

 _To the Dark Lord,_

 _I know I shall be dead long before you_

 _read this but I want you to -_

 _was I who discovered y-_

 _I have stolen the re-_

 _intend to destroy it as soon as-_

 _I face death in the hopes that when_

 _you meet your match, you shall be mortal once more._

 _RAB_

The message did not mean much, but it told him one thing. Regulus Black had stolen his Horcrux.

* * *

"Eight hundred and forty goblins died in the war of the Sigmoid knife. This battle is marked in wizarding history as the battle of the groaning ground, as it coincided with the massive burials of forty three wizards within frozen soils. Gardener Tyr shows us his experiences in war, that point us to the graves in southern Wales. His diary was one of the proofs to the services of the centaurish rebellions of fourteen hundred four."

"With reference to the eighty fourth goblin rebellions, and the sixty others that followed, it is quite impressive that goblin numbers had remained on the increase for several years that followed, with censuses being taken by the joint ministry representatives from both goblin sides, and wizarding, with strict guidelines being followed on the revealing of figures to historians and historians only."

As Binns turned, there was a number of serial yawns, that continued on even after he turned back towards them. He was unlike most professors, and allowed conversations unless it disturbed him. Amidst his droning, Hermione had taken a page of notes. The class had started thirty minutes ago, but the agonising absence of a clock in the room made Harry and Ron sick.

"Would a Pastille help?" Asked Harry.

"Why?" "A pastille. Now?"

"What is a pastille?"

"The puke inducing sweets. George gave me ten for use specifically in Binns' classes.

"What? I am their brother, and they give you their inventions! What am I, adopted?"

"You can't be adopted, you know that. There isn't a transfiguration that gives you freckles for a lifetime."

"Shush, you two. He is teaching."

Binns, oblivious to all that commotion in his class, continued his droning.

"Multiple sources have confirmed that the first Grishnak was the inventor of the mithril groin protectors, but there still exist sources that have claimed that the stolen instructions from dwarves had been plagiarised in the war of Prast. The war of Prast, fought in the plains of Ares, which is the Greek, and original name of the Roman god Mars, and ended with the dwarves gaining the upper hand, but with goblins exhibiting their salvaging capabilities once again. The dwarven court had condemned Grishnak to three years of sentence in the silver mines of Portugal. Grishnak has confirmed the discovery of the plans in the dwarven prisons, but allegedly declined having stolen multiple blueprints."

"I try listening, but Hermione, did the dwarves put Grishnak in prison for stealing their plans, or did Grishnak steal the plans when he was in prison? Or did...-Ron, what are you laughing at?" "Groin Protectors." They all looked at Ron's face and burst out laughing, as Lavender looked up at them from her Divination essay. History was the best class to complete all homework, except that the droning of Binns might put you to sleep midway through.

"Oh, Merlin's socks, I haven't done mine yet!" Grimaced a shocked Harry, as he picked his bag, and was surprised to see his Transfiguration textbook.

"I kept my Divination book and the first half of my essay in here. Where did it go?" "He looked at Ron. "Not me, mate. I don't touch your things." Neville turned to say something, but Hermione interrupted him.

"The Divination class is in the afternoon for you, Harry. I just arranged your bag because the next class is transfiguration. Anyways, listen to this class now."

"So then, where is my Divination stuff? I-"

"In the common room. We can go by lunch and get it."

Harry was banging his head on the desk in front, as Neville looked back. "Don't worry Harry. I brought your things. Alicia Spinnet saw the stuff and gave them to me, saying it was yours and that you had forgotten. Here."

"Thank you very much, Neville, you're a life saver."

"As the dwarven court was abolished following the battle of Agincourt in 1415, in which the goblins had lost French contacts, damaging their ascension by a mere four years. Unlike that, the dwarves, who suspended judgment on their barbaric customs, and instead insisted that the goblins share the stolen loot of their ancestors, which was marked as a victory in Greenwich and celebrated by goblins annually. History is a bit muddled over here, and much more events had been lost when Thiophorus, the Greek nomad and arsonist in 1688 destroyed the British stronghold of goblins. Due to a high concentration of sulphur in goblin metallurgical industries, fire became large scale damaging substance, and hence, even now, you would not find fire in usage at Gringotts and other goblin ventures, and no goblins reside in Greece and Sicily even now."

* * *

"Saturn glows in the darkness. Not a sign of injury, but of impending danger."

"Years ago, Mars had this symbol of proclamation. Of danger. Of war. We cannot see much if the elmwood is damp. Greythorn, remove another cluster from damage."

The rain had always been a major cause of concern, much because it impended their augury. Reading entrails was not their style, for it required the death of an innocent being. Their predictions usually involved burning tree barks and smoke reading, while the damp wood never burned to satisfaction. They had prepared a cave in the southwest extremes of the forest, nearer to he Acromantula hordes than to theirs. A single centaur could outrun Acromantula easily and wood was never a concern of those spiders. They coexisted peacefully, never willingly crossing territories.

Rowan had organised a expedition to collect most of the blessed wood, that required the presence of a female unicorn to brush against.

Another trio of young centaurs galloped towards them, without their bows.

"Sire, Saturn is closer to the Bull. And the glow is signifying-"

"That was exactly what Bane here was worrying us all about. Has the Bull approached Neptune in the last week? Has it?"

As neither responded, Rowan continued. "See? You never pay attention. I don't want these outbursts of nonsense from you young ones too. Bane can't be cured of the hit to his head. Come brothers. Let us consider the important matters and leave the incomplete prophesying to the novices." As the others galloped towards the outer extent of the forest, Widun waved at Bane. Before he spoke, Bane interrupted.

"Neptune was indeed closer to Taurus last week. They won't accept it even if they all see it in front of their eyes wearing togas." Bane shook his head, as the youth followed him.

"Multiplied enemies. While no friend objects. That is what Saturn would decree." Muttered Bane as he strutted, disgusted at his horde's ignorant nature.

* * *

 **Read and Review. Follow and Fav. Thanks all.**


	26. A Moody Class

**Chapter 26 : A Moody Class + Special bonus add-on - Poll on profile, please attempt.**

* * *

 **Please send pics appropriate for a cover of this story. Pm me!**

* * *

Regulus Black was dead. How had he managed to... We had, or of course my servants had incinerated all the inferi within the lake as soon as the collapsed werewolves had come up. Macnair returned from a local pub, wearing multiple glamouring enchantments.

"Not in the lake, my lord. We have scoured it all all sides, nothing is within." growls Greyback. "I tried a summoning charm too, my lord."

"Macnair you fool, if I had the least bit of common sense, I wouldnt have placed a priceless heirloom of Slytherin without Anti Summoning Enchantments. Go do something useful."

"We found the corpse of Black here. I think he did it without informing anybody about this. And why would it make ye mortal, my lord?"

"Greyback, please ask your _friend_ here, to mind his business, with another warning too."

"'Crucio'." The werewolf twitches for a full ten minutes, and then collapsed. "Dead. My Lord, I'm afraid, it must have been the stress of the last... um... moon. I shall... should I dispose of this too?"

"Yes. Search the waters again. Abandon the cave, and I would rather hit that loose curtain on the right side of the cave. Destroy the cave with that. Clear traces of magic. Macnair, follow me."

He shouted at the werewolves near the small island, and they grumble as they enter the water again. A foolish one amongst them had not even cast a bubble head charm upon himself.

We exit the cave, as Macnair crouches. "My lord, that was indeed Regulus Black's body. He disappeared off the radars of the ministry and other records before you had even... your... fall." He struggles to keep his composure. "Regulus must have taken the locket, but how? How did he know it was here? And how did he know that you, my lord, you would have kept this priceless heirloom of Lord Salazar himself, here? Out of all places. It surely couldn't be a chance event..." Clever. He avoids saying whatever he suspects. "The Locket of my ancestor and Hogwarts' true founder must be found. I shall embark to find the artefacts that I have safely placed in secure locations, and I believe I would have to pay a visit to them."

Where would I have gone wrong? Regulus had never challenged me face to face. Might be... "Wait!" I glide over to the entrance of the cave. "Did you find the corpse of a house elf here?"

"No, sir. All human." Just then, a werewolf cast a Reductus at the column near the drapes, as the cave imploded, and the potion splattered. The water had been drained to the sea for exposing the Inferi, and now with the cave in, the night is pierced by howls. Most are alive. I spot the hidden stone that prevented us from on-the-spot Apparation, and with Macnair destroying it, we leave. Three werewolves have died, and we cross the borders of Scotland manually, avoiding cross country Apparation detection.

The house elf must have survived. Regulus must have ... but why? Why should regulus avenge, nah, take his revenge for a house elf? And what is it with stealing my things? First my life. Then the stone embedded on the Gaunt ring. Now my locket. It seems I will have to get the help of an old friend, or kill him trying.

* * *

"Wake up, Harry. It's the twenty fourth. The holidays start today. Just the Half day of classes."

"Half day?" He said groggily, reaching out to the shelf for his glasses.

"Saturday. Only DADA for three hours, and another hour of Charms. Dean, wake Neville up."

"Three hours! What?" Asked a surprised Seamus, as Dean threw a couple of jeans and a robe at Harry's still half-asleep face.

"Yeah, Moody exchanged classes for this lesson. I asked him after the last class on Thursday." Neville sat upright, then jumped to his feet.

"What for? I mean, he completed all those revisions on Vampires and Dugbogs, didn't he?"

"My bladder's full." Neville ran across the room to the bathroom.

"He said some kind of practice session. Anyways, I hated those revisions."

"So, after the ball, we can go home? Eh?" Asked Seamus, while glancing at the bathroom door slamming shut.

"Dunno. I think we stay here. Anyways. I am staying. Ummph." Harry sat up on the bed. "Dumbledore said I could go to Sirius' home in the Easter break."

"I'm staying here. Me mam don't want me returning in holidays, she's in Japan, presenting a project on... lemme see. " He pulled out a folded letter from beneath his pillow. "Diagnosing changes between dragon pox and dragon flu, and spreading awareness. I'll go home in Easter though."

"What about you, Ron?"

"Well, if Harry's staying, then so am I. And I don't think Ginny or the twins are going home too."

The bathroom door opened, and Neville stood there, soaked in water.

Dean looked at him, with an embarrassed look. "I forgot to inform the house elves 'bout the broken tap in the sink. And the plumbing was a bit weakly fixed, my repairing charm isn't that good. Sorry, Nev."

"Why does everything happen to me?"

* * *

Moody closed the windows of the classroom. The hall had been expanded in the length to allow two of the duelling podia they had used in their second year. Moody stood near the blackboard, holding his staff upon his shoulder and leaning heavily on the table.

"Pull the blinds too, Miss." Parvati closed the Venetian blinds on the far side of the classroom. The room dimmed by a lot. "Light those lamps, Mister Finnigan. And everybody, take your seats."

"We are here to try beginner's hexes, _and_ jinxes. Try using the list of charms I put up on the board. You all should try and avoid every jinx. Not every hex, get hit by them and get your faces smashed. Like mine." He got a weak chuckle as he pointed at his face.

"I'm not going to dump you with the everything in the vicinity is a weapon crap. Nothing usually is. But anything conjured by you, must be a weapon. Any spell coming out should be a weapon ready for a clean kill. See. 'Scourgify'" He cast it at the blackboard, leaving it spotlessly clean.

"Now think of the scenario if I use it on your mouth. A bit deeper, and it mounts to me strangling you. A bit deeper, and you are dead before you ever say 'weapon' again. Clean Kill, if the occasional pun is allowed."

"A bit morose. And pessimistic." muttered Ron, as Moody said "I heard that comment, Mister Weasley, and I am glad that you have expanded your vocabulary. Depressing, yes, but also Lifesaving. Yes. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" He thundered as usual, but they were now used to the shouts.

"While soap in the mouth isn't in anyway the worst death, some of the curses used in modern practice, are nevertheless more or less equal to the killing curse in terms of intent and effect. Active Euthanasia is usually done in St Mungos by injecting rat tail venom, not a good spell at the wrong spot. Why?"

Harry attempted the question. "Because nobody else should try that spell in a lethal way? Preventing... um... er..."

"I get what you say, but a killer can use them spells anywhere, can't they? Anti-Unforgivable wards on wands never was legalised till the First wizarding war. Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Because they don't encourage usage of wizard methods for wrong purposes. It makes wizards look bad?" She ended the question in a puzzled look, as though her answer didn't seem satisfactory to her.

"Blah bleh bleh. Nothing of that. It's just cause they are incompetent idiots like you all. They can't cast spells correct. That's why those losers became healers." He paused.

"I was just kidding. That was never a real question. But the way you thought of those answers, especially yours, Mister Potter, that is good. Take five points for Gryffindor. Rat tail venom can't be cured in two minutes acting time, as it has a debilitating effect on viscera. Learn some of these Greek and Latin words, and you can make spells. And brag."

"Now, Every spell has a good and a bad effect. Here I have provided a list of spells that are the _commonest_ ones in your curriculum. Try listing out spells, while four of you come in batches. Duelling practice."

The class continued, and Moody asked them to write down answers in a piece of parchment. Much like in a test, they were not allowed to copy, or even discuss. Moody took a chair and sat at the end of the row, and graded them all one by one, calling them in reverse alphabetical order. As Ron returned, Ernie Macmillan knocked the open door, and entered. "Sir, you scheduled a class in this period for your... um." "Which.."

"Fourth year Hufflepuffs sir. Now. They said you changed the class to Gryffindors, but the portion and the test are yet to be completed, and it is our last day."

"Stop discussing you all. Yes, Mister Macmillan, well, then. Call the others. Now it's a period off, for you?"

"Yes sir. Professor GrubblyPlank said you borrowed our period, but you were not in your office. Professor McGonagall said you had borrowed Professor Snape's p-"

"Yes, yes. Come on. Write down those spells on the board, and find a lethal of damaging use for it. Not a counter, just a bad usage of the spell. Next, Potter, Patil. Come on, come on, we haven't got all day."

Harry left his paper and quill, and most importantly closed his ink reservoir before he left his seat. He turned back and flipped the paper too, to the unwritten backside, promoting Seamus' glares.

He stepped upon the duelling stage, and Parvati stood on the other side. Moody was closer to her side. "Three jinxes." He called. "Do three and the other shields, and then vice versa."

Harry started with the shield first. He had practiced it in Flitwick's class, but it had always drained him, leaving him tired in the end. But the shields were strong,not a problem with that. Parvati tried a Furnunculus, as the shield bounced it off. Harry peeked from the side, delighted to see Moody tick a box. The jinx disappeared off the boundaries of the duelling stage. It must've been enchanted to-

Parvati fired again. This time it was a Relashio. Harry didn't expect this, but he held his ground, thanks to his overpowered shielding. "Good, miss Patil. Striking when he does not notice. But grip was lousy. Potter! CONSTANT VIGILANCE! Where are you looking at?"

This time it was louder, and most of the students on the other side looked over.

Harry cowered, and raised another shield. "Hold it near the hilt, boy. Hands around the amount of core involved. Don't grip the wand like... here." He came near and adjusted his position. "More the core within your hand, more the magic flux. Hold with minimum skin contact to adjust. Now. Do it. The shield."

"'Protego.'" And the shimmery fluidlike shield appeared in front.

"Impedimenta' " shouted Parvati, as Harry noticed her hand pointing towards his feet. Harry shifted his wandpoint downwards, with a slight jump. Surprisingly, his shield moved along with the wand point, and the spell hit the angle between the shield and the base, ricocheting off the ceiling next. Parvati ducked, as Harry smiled, with another tick appearing on the sheet Moody had.

Parvati shook her head, in a sort of gesture that might have meant exasperation, and assumed her shield. Harry cast an Impedimenta, as the white clashed with the shield. He held all fingers on his wand, following Moody. "Too strong, Potter. You don't want Miss Patil knocked out for a day, do ya? But perfect casting." He ticked a box for the proper shield Parvati had, as Harry cast a Jelly legs. She stopped it with a smirk, as Moody ticked another box. Harry was now worried, as he had not seen if he got the second tick.

With a swallow, he cast a single tonguetwisting jinx, as it crossed the room in it's multicoloured form, and dissipated instead of just bouncing.

"Well done, Mister Potter. That is a fine example of how you dig your own grave. Do you attend Arithmancy classes or not?" Moody limped towards him. "I-" stuttered Harry, as Moody crossed him to get to the other blackboard. "Five hundred thaums. Give or take. With the wavelength of light changing quartets of this... Here. See? You channel white, you minimise prismatic efficacy loss. You split colours, Bravo, you get a colourful show, while the shielding absorbs remnant energy. You provoke the enemy to waste his energy, not give him more!" The chalk hit the floor, splitting to two. "But more range..." "Potter, who needs range for an enemy at ten feet? In a whole phalanx of enemies, Ptolemy shot eight hundred with an Impediment. Now that is a use of Range. He did it at a distance of-" "Four Miles." piped Parvati, with a look begging for an extra credit. "Good. And I know it is from the fourth card in your pack of Chocolate frogs. Go on, both of you. Potter, consider taking Arithmancy for the next year. Sinistra might give a class or two on the basics during summer. Divination is no subject for humans." He said the last sentence while he looked at the changes in Parvati's face with a playful chuckle.

"Call the next two. I left... the ..." He breathed out with every urgent limp. " wrting pad... in my desk."

Harry went to the table, calling Seamus. The hufflepuffs were huddled over near the board, and waiting for their turn after the Gryffindors ended theirs. They werent writing the answers to the spells that was on the board. "Psst. Harry, how d'you use Tarentellegra as a lethal one?"

"Dunno, cast it on a person at the edge of a cliff, maybe."

"If he's a wizard and manages to apparate? Ah, how about this one? A child, without apparation license?"

"Sadist."

"Shut your mouths over there." shouted Moody, as Seamus missed a step.

* * *

"Narcissa, prepare some tea. And call that infernal house elf. Where the hell did it go?" Narcissa came in, wearing a long dress, her hair tied in a braid arching to her right shoulder. "Call it, if you so want. I would bet in galleons that you wouldn't remember It's name."

She went back in, as Lucius arched for the newspaper. "If you had been in that Board of Governors, we would have been at the school for Draco's date. Pansy agreed to come with him, did you hear that?"

"Hmm?"

"I said, Draco asked Pansy to come with him for the Yule Ball. It isn't everyday that you get to see your child's first date in a historical ceremony."

"Pansy. What Pansy? Parkinson's daughter?"

"Yes, she. They are such a cute couple, don't you think? Wonderful. Don't you have any sort of interest in your child's life?" She placed the tray with a thump, but the silky tablecloth prevented much sound. Tea that should have spilled was contained within the pot with stasis charms.

Narcissa drew a Cup to her hands, and sipped it, while her husband flicked through the pages. "They say that the Board is not planning to view the Yuletide ball. Even if I had been there, it wouldn't have done much good, anyway. They all kiss Dumbledore's feet."

They drank in silence for a few more minutes, while Lucius suddenly looked up. "Did Rosalind Greengrass pay a visit? I asked her to-"

There was a shockwave that radiated along the edges of the Manor. Lucius grabbed the overcoat, as Narcissa plucked his staff from the near the umbrella stand. As she handed it over to him, he sipped the last drops of his tea, and rushed out.

There was a slight breeze as he stepped out. He raised the staff, and pulled out the wand. "Who is it?"

He removed the illusions on the opened ward, and found that the cause for the wave had been the residual brake on the warding. He closed it down, and saw a peacock stumbling over the remnants of the brake. "Shoo." He moved towards the piece. It had no magical memory, proved by the 'Revelio'. Satisfied, Lucius returned home, stuffing his wand back into the staff. He passed the doors to the hall, as he heard it. The unpleasantly and unfortunately familiar voice, uttering unprecedented words.

"I would love some coffee, but I need nothing except some help. Welcome, Lucius."

* * *

Lucius kneeled in front of the chair opposite to Narcissa, hyperventilating.

"My lord, it pleases me so much-"

"Stop it, Lucius. There is no forgiveness, nor any remembering. Let us all start anew. I need to take birth again."

"My lord?"

"I need a physical body."

As Lucius opened his mouth, the silvery apparition cut through. "Nothing of your blabbering. I have the full plans and all I need is human assistance. You shall serve me in this purpose."

"Y-Yes, my lord." He bowed, in fear mostly. Narcissa shifted her gaze to her husband, and bowed down. Voldemort smiled.

* * *

 **Sorry to announce that Lord Voldemort has requested that his first person narratives must be ended as soon as he gets a body.**

 **If you enjoyed the first person narration, tell me.** **And if you want it to continue, tell me.** **I'll try to convince him to continue on with it.**

 **And maybe if you didn't like it, then too, tell me.**

 **In other words, Please Post Reviews. Try the poll on my profile.**


	27. Of Balls and Dead Circuses

**Chapter 27: Of Balls and dead Circuses**

* * *

"The Yule Ball will start by 6 pm in the evening, and will continue till midnight. A feast shall be organised before that. Please assemble at the Great Hall by Five thirty. Come along with your dance partners."

Hermione agreed to be Harry's partner. She had been positively pleased with going with him, and that was a surprise. He knew that Hermione was not interested in him in any way, and that she did not mind fame too (cough... Lockhart cough...).

"Ready with your waltzing, Harry?" Asked Ron. Upon urging, and frightening him on the prospect that he would be the only one apart from Eloise Midgen or Crabbe to go unpaired, he had gathered enough courage to ask Lavender to the Ball. She had obliged, while sending off Seamus with a disgruntled Parvati. Ron seemed surprised at the prospect of a girl dumping another for him, but it had soon turned to a fistfight with Seamus.

"I think so. Dancing is uncomfortable enough, but to start the dance with us champions..." "What! You all will start it off? Cool, mate." They had been called by Snape in the last weekend who told them. He apparently knew that Harry was pairing with Hermione for the dance. Thy had both chosen to not let Ron have that information, but now it had slipped. "So, you all will have to dance first? Good thing I was not chosen as champion... oh." He had touched a point, as Harry glared at him. They sat in an uncomfortable silence, as Hermione returned through the portrait with a couple of books in her hand. "What did you get for Christmas, Hermione?" "My parents sent me a great present..." "Lemme guess, more books?" Chuckled Ron, as she smirked. "No. They bought me a set of Dress robes. They chose it personally for me."

"Hey, wait a minute. Mom gave me a parcel when we left. I first thought it was an extra set of uniforms, so it stayed in the bottom of my trunk." "Who buys a spare set, while we have the elves here for the laundry?"

"Mum's paranoid. Wait here."

He clambered up the stairs, skipping steps on the way. Harry picked up two books off her pile, as she lowered the rest. "So, what did you get, Harry?"

"Mrs Weasley gave me a box of muffins. And a jumper. Ron gave a bunch of Chocolate Frogs. And I got an Agrippa. Don't tell him."

Ron threw the package on the floor from above. He then descended the stairs, and then kicked the pack. "So that's dress robes for me, eh? Where are yours, Harry?" "I didn't buy any. Neville said he had brought four spares because his grandmother told him to. You know, in case he forgets. He said he will give me one."

"Okay, let's all calm down, and see what I have got in here. Weird, it is heavy."

He prized open the strings holding the wrapper in place, as out slid a note. Harry picked it and read it aloud.

" _Dear Ron,_

 _I have packed your and Harry's dress robes in this. I have embroidered your names on the collars in colours contrasting the cloth's colour._

 _Best wishes, and don't disturb your sister, you all. "_

"WHAT the heck is..."

"What, Ron?" "Look at this. What am I, a dump to drop off old clothes? All frills."

Ron collapsed on the couch, picking Harry's clothes. "Why can't I have one of these?"

"Well, Neville still has a spare, Ron."

* * *

Ron entered the corridor, as Lavender met up. "Crazy, isn't it? This Ball?" Lavender giggled, as Ron shifted the collar (announcing Neville Longbottom) further into his neck. Fred and George came over, having a discussion with Angelina and Alicia. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in the... you know, starting off the ball?"

"What, are you talking to us? Cause we are used to the 'What are you two doing slash What are both of you doing, slash, Bla blah blah', and you would then talk to 'us' like we were conjoint, slash Siamese, and then we would start off with a reply, completing each other's sentences?"

"Yes, that is exactly what you do in most fan fictions. Hello Ron!" Came Luna, with a vibrant smile and an even more vibrant hair colouring.

"What does she mean by fanfiction?"

"Relax, Gred, she's loony."

"Hey Luna!" greeted Ron. Lavender smiled at her, as Alicia moved with a emphatically pronounced "Wow!" at Katie Bell's clothing choices.

"Did you get that news, Ron? The git's father has been taken ill. He wasnt coming to the ministry and the reason was Dragon pox." "Hope he dies."

"How so insensitive of you?"

"Softened on hanging around with Hermione, Ronnikins? Are yous in lurve with her?" Fred imitated a squeaky, yet distinctly babylike voice.

Ron punched him at the chest, which he gratuitously returned with grace.

* * *

"Do you have to busy me with this work even on Christmas? Oh, for god's sake. Pull him over here." Said Madam Pomfrey. "You are vulnerable to injuries with an untreated Slug vomiting charm, Mr Weasley, but one would expect a bit more caution." She scolded him, but used a rib repairing and chest normalising charm, which was usually taught in Healer's Ed. It had a few side effects, along with nausea and the feeling of a horse riding on his chest, but otherwise it solved the problem. Lavender waited out, as she gestured indifferently. "They called them for the start. Come on fast. Can he run?" She looked at Madam Pomfrey, who nodded with a scowl.

* * *

"The ceremonious inauguration of the celebrations on the day of Yuletide shall begin now."

"Did you hear? Celestina Warbeck has come for the program!" "Celestina!" "Wow, I loved her. She was my childhood, you know.""Her Cauldron inspired some poems of mine. I would like to show her some."

"Oof. Her? I would like to show my fist to her throat too." "She squawks like a throttled chicken already, don't provoke it."

"Why can't he Weird sisters come? Why do we have to suffer this? I am off the mood already." Said Fred, with a glass of sarsaparilla. He had made an expression alike to the scream in the Scream, by Edward Munch, with the first glance at the singer. "Mom would sell our house to be here." "True that."

 _When the final song begins_

Harry walked along with the new Hermione, coated in Sleakazy's solution. She was turning more eyes than the underage champion, understating the fact that Harry's suit was actually good.

 _May my Phoenix realise her mistake_

Krum walked alongside the woman, whom Harry supposed was from Durmstrang. She wore mildly revealing red satin clothes, with her face dipped in make-up. She had obviously wanted to make an impression on Krum.

 _Wonderful, his eyes. I'm on a trance_

 _Wake me up on Monday, my Phoenix can be inside._

The song was actually good, and Harry twirled along with Hermione. Roger Davies looked as if he was on heaven. Fleur enjoyed the song more than the dancing part, but she did make an effort. And her Veela charm made her average dancing look beautiful.

 _She asked me for more treats_

 _more feeding and more gold._

 _But as I saw him, my heart swam in the cold._

 _I don't remember you singing, my fe eh eh eh... friend... ooh._

"Boo!" "Shut that singing!" "We want the Sisters. We want the sisters!" The twins started a chorus, as Angelina looked in disapproval.

The glass clinked, as Dumbledore entered the dancing floor. He twirled the hem of his robes, and held out a hand to Professor Sinistra, who giggled with a blush before joining him. The twins' look of anger morphed to one of disgust.

* * *

 **Most of the following conversation must be in German, or Greek, or any other language you can expect for Grindelwald and his newly gained assistant to speak. As I have knowledge of neither of these languages, I have "converted" their talk to an English version (Boo, you suck, Google translate). If any word doesn't exist in that language, please point it out (with a correction/ replacement).**

" _Long time since I came here. Why do you want them? No animal would be allowed to roam freely here."_

 _They were in Sudan, a place known for it's migrant species of magical animals. Not a single magical animal had originally belonged to Sudan. But the climate and flora had lured many, many animals to shift their inhabitation to this place. They had crossed the village where Newton Scamander had previously encountered an Obscurial._

 _"You know much about protection charms? Some old ones originated here. And if you want to help me, it is good that you don't become a liability. You inhibit my exploits during day."_

 _The vampire scoffed. "If only we were allowed staffs. That might be enough."_

 _"Nonsense. That would take months of practice. Even if you use your core, seeing you were once a witch before being bitten..."_

 _"I wouldn't impose upon you. I shall scout forward. I would only need the prise you promised me."_

 _"Of course. Stay away from cemeteries anyways. You don't know if there are Christians here."_

 _They approached a series of torches, as the magical settlement neared. It had been set to an indeterminate pace, changing locations per day. As the opening was visible, with the primitive spears decorating the entrance, both the travellers moved in. As soon as they entered, they saw what was a large city, unbeknownst to the muggle population. Bustling with activity, with the sky fixed to a permanent state of night, everybody here was in a rush. The night was the time when most wizards were free. International Apparation was not recorded with strict guidelines and privacy enchantments. Any government could be bribed._

 _They neared a carnival setting, and avoided nearing the gambling dens. With fortune tellers claiming descent from the lines of the Great Cassandra, and Muggle style magical performers, there was a variety of activity, while the two had no work with them. They spotted the site where their goal was._

* * *

 _The corcus was almost full when Madam Greypoke readied herself. The English woman had a few grey streaks to her hair, that made her look extremely wise and beautiful. Her hair was tied in a loose knot, few elegant rolls coming near her ear, which she twirled a lot. It was a new site to which their corcus had been moved. The international corcus had been condemned for usage of slight necromantic procedures, for which they had gone into hiding. The settlement was one of the unrecognised sites that was never in a single place. You get in at a site, you will never be questioned on your identity by anyone. Nobody will be allowed to speak about anything private learned inside the site. That suited her._

 _"The animals are ready! Ma'am, we'll send Froth inside." "Call them all. Start off in twenty seconds."_

 _Froth moved on the stick, walking in as a senile old man. The good thing was once you are condemned, but in a legally safe spot, you can use even worse methods in necromancy. It was not as if she was using Inferi. Just raising a couple of her best performers was not wrong. She knew her limits. Studying a bad art, and using it in a good way was supposed to be good!_

 _Froth shook his stick in the air, as a velvet cloth covered his body, stuffing him to the ground. Three of the chained manticores ran over, dragging the ringmaster playfully, as the buried man came out young. The now young man climbed over the back of the manticore, which then climbed on the others. They made a pyramid, and then Froth swallowed his pellet and blew green fire._

 _The trapeze vampire, who had been suspended in midair by two lines passing on either side, was flung to the side, as the fire burnt through the line on the right._

 _"Wooooo" shouted the children in the crowd, as Preston Goth, the vampire flew to the brick wall and collapsed, and emitted a black flame. The wall then shattered, as Madam Greypoke made her entrance. She moved the wall with a finger, making it the centre of attraction. She plunged her hand into the wall, and as her hand twitched on that side, she pulled it out in a grasping motion, as Goth returned, with his fangs reaching his feet. He grinned at the population, who cheered._

 _They bowed, as Greypoke spotted a curious face, a face she hoped she would forget. A face belonging in his very special prison._

* * *

 _"Wonderful. Sarah, meet my new assistant, Seraphina. She is a vampire, once a member of the coven. Seraphina, this is-"_

 _"Sarah Greypoke, the owner of the wizarding circus."_

 _"We call ours the corcus. A play on corpses and circus. You see, I have no inhibitions now to that. I didn't do nothing, no kills, no disturbances. Even no deaths caused by my necromancy. They still prosecuted me. Our friend here," she gestured at Grindelwald. "Did much more to that. Killed thousands, he did. Hitler's friend. Of course, Nazi's were not the worst threat we faced, were they? Nothing else affected the muggle population except them, but are we the only living ones?"_

 _"I'm sorry, how do you know him? He was like, a few decades before you, I mean."_

 _"My lady, I am one of you. We are of the same... blood won't suit the phrase, would it, Gellert?"_

 _They laughed, as she pulled out a bottle of Greek wine. "I had these sent from Pertreus. Want some?"_

 _"Please." Asked Seraphina, as Grindelwald declined. "We came for the fluid. She would need it, and I would want a set of spares too, seeing you won't sell the recipe." "Fluid? You still want that. Hahaha..."_

 _She laughed heartily, a sound echoing through the room. She drew the curtains, in full view of the arcade games outside. Muggle technology had impressed wizards, some of whom even forewent their inhibitions in the name of honour. "Video game arcade stations give us a good profit, by the way. But coming to the topic, Gellert, what happened to you? You once cursed me for not giving you the recipe. Now you just want a few vials of it. Sudden change of heart?"_

 _"Need would put it well. I don't have the armies I commanded back then. Now this is all that I have. Needs grow with how much you have. You weren't going to hand me over an enterprise, were you?"_

 _"Nah!" She grinned, pouring herself a glass. "Never. Nor am I going to be called an ally of yours." She sat on the couch, crossing her legs and shaking the one on top. She brushed her silky black hair near the ear. She reached for the glass on the table by her side, as she sighed. "Pity, no house elves work for us. It is hard to leave one by when we turn, you see. They don't bother serving us." She was now addressing Seraphina, who nodded, while not showing any particular interest. Grindelwald was beginning to get irritated. She did not turn to the problem at hand._

 _"What will you have then, Gellert, if not alcohol? Spoiled by prison, have you?" She chuckled, as she moved to the cabinet by the fireplace. She suddenly turned, grinning. "Here, catch." She threw the vial, hoping Grindelwald would miss. Seraphina held out a hand, but the vial swivelled and passed into his sleeve. "Never outsmarted, my dear. Three more. And one for our friend here."_

* * *

Roger Davies loved the day, as he left back to the common room. He touched his lips, which still felt warm. "Not be bathing for a month, will ye, Davies?" Commented a highly intoxicated Ravenclaw seventh year, as he moved to the stairs.

"Nothing with it, Dumbledore. Alastor is not allowing me the freedom I deserve. He walks around, cursing me with words each time he crosses me. I'm afraid I would have to resign if I face any more conflict."

Roger stumbled, and couldn't believe this bit of luck. If Snape left, he would have a full one and a half year of freedom. Not that Snape was much of the original terror he had been. It had all been due to Moody, as they all had presumed. He rushed past, towards the common room to say the bit of news.

"He never trusted me, not after-" Snape looked into the corridor, as he saw Roger running across, with a tint of an alcoholic intoxication.

"Not after he saw the mark. He didn't know I had it?"

"I thought it would be best if he did not know of your closeness to Tom. Alas, he has had a grudge against everyone."

"He stalks me, Dumbledore. I can't stand intrusion of private space. Tell him to restrict himself, or else I shall be forced to leave the school. It is debilitating, him protruding his nose into matters. What does he think of himself, huh?"

Dumbledore got up from the stairs. He had sat on the opposite side to where Davies had come up.

"Severus, I do not want this. The faculty being uncooperative is not new, but I would have expected more from Alastor. I shall speak to him, but I would need you with me."

"I won't speak. Not a word about-"

"Not a single word."

* * *

The cold air must have been a good feel, as I glide through the gardens around the Manor. Lucius had brought a snake for keeping me company. Greyback and Pettigrew stayed in Scotland for the last month. I had not revealed my coming to Malfoy's house. Lucius had served me well in the past, but he had a massive debt to pay. He had lost the diary of mine. Another Horcrux gone.

He had supposedly lost it, but without a body to host me, I remained in the realm of memories and souls, and that enabled me to roam the free space of Lucius' hippocampus. He had lost the Diary to one of the Weasley's infidel siblings, and moreover, he had seen it when it had been destroyed. Harry Potter again.

The prophecy, or at least the part of the prophecy he had heard stated that the boy would have been his Bane. He had thoughts of eliminating both the halfblood and the pure blood born on that day, but he had failed at the first. His thoughts were mingled with he need to survive and the will to exact revenge.

Lucius had more spite on the lost house elf than on the gift of mine. He will pay when I get my body. Honestly, who cares about a house elf? There are loads available for sale at the Alley.

Lucius has helped a lot, collecting most of the ingredients for the body creation. A sacrifice would be needed, though. He agreed to use a dead body, but a dead wizard would attract attention. And he didn't dare suggest a muggle.

A snake might prove disastrous, and I might end up with symptoms ranging from a forked tongue to an absent nose (absurd, isn't it?). The news articles from the last month and the one before had been truly surprising. Hordes of Inferi had been spotted near Germany, and he had deduced that they had killed a vampire, for the following papers reported migration of bats in evening. Vampires never go out till midnight, unless they had a need to cover more ground within the night.

Suspicions pointed towards a grey area... Unknown to me. But surely known to Dumbledore, the mastermind.

* * *

 **Longer chapter, but three PoVs covered.**


	28. The Corinthian Gauntlet

**Chapter 28 : The Corinthian Gauntlet**

* * *

"Multiple causes have been proved to cause the rotting of leaves inhabited by Bowtruckles. The worst effect was when they were exposed to paintings of Botticelli, when hundreds of Bowtruckles in a forest committed suicide en masse. So, Hermione, what should be the reason behind this? I have no clue."

"Ron, I brought this book for that. 'Muggle paintings and cultural significances' and this one too."

"Renaissance. What does it mean?"

"It was a period of time when-"

"Where's Mister Potter?" Called Professor McGonagall as she approached them both through the painting. "Professor?"

"Where is he? He has to come to the grounds fast. The orientation is about to start!"

New year had passed by, leading them on to 1995, but the monumental increase in homework as the holidays ended, had placed them in the library and the common room, equal times spent in classes and homework. Equal, as well as the entire amount of their time.

"He is in the library, professor. Professor Moody gave us some homework, so he went to get-"

"Go, mister Weasley, call him to come to the Quidditch pitch at once. Now."

Ron crossed the Fat Lady, and reached the doors to the library, as Fred and George were bickering. "Snape will cut off your ear if he this."

"Hohoho. You would die laughing at me then, won't you?"

"Weird. All this is so prophetic." Luna just came out of the library, the entrance of which was flanked by two small wild boars.

The twins stared at her, as she crossed Ron. "Hey, Ronald. Professor Dumbledore called you three to his room after the briefing for Harry. Harry left to the grounds. I suppose you were here to tell him that, hmm?" Ron was speechless at her questioning look, and replied. "Um, yeah, good then. I'll go there too, in case he goes on his own. Ah, and Fred, aren't you going, too?"

"Yep, Ronny boy. I can't believe how much you have grown. You'll have to make another attempt to..." he trailed off, as George came forth. "Dumbledore called you for classes? Seriously?"

"Yeah." Ron couldn't help but brag. He was sure not to leak out anything, but felt the slight pride at where this was going. All members of the family had succeeded so much, that it set high milestones for hope. The younger ones had to try harder. Fred had already entered the tournament. What more could the greater prize be, than to help defeat the Dark Lord of the age? "He teaches us. Personally. Important stuff. Secret."

"Twenty galleons." Said a twin, most likely George (Fred hadn't drawn out his wand earlier, but who knew?).

"What? No, it is secret. You'll thank me when it's all done."

As soon as Ron made his way to the grounds, Fred and George turned to face each other. "Target fixed. Ronald Weasley must be puking out whatever this so called secret is." "Gred?" "Yes, Forge?"

"I need to use the bathroom."

* * *

"Welcome, champions." Ludo Bagman wore a pink and yellow suit, the colours violently clashing with his blonde hair moving with the air. The neon pink clothing had been newly purchased, whereas the yellow tweed had been a souvenir from his days in Quidditch.

"The first task will begin in the morning of the Nineteenth. Of this month, of course. The one to score the highest points shall win. At present, the mechanical work has been completed, which is why you all shall be given a head start as to planning your positioning. There will be no physical contact between you people, as you will be going through as one champion after the other, not as a single group. "

He led them through the long cuboid arrangement. Fitted with glass throughout, the only entrance was from the underground room in the far north end. The cuboid was split into segments, blocks of cardboard strewn across the outer aspect. The cuboid was covered with a large tarpaulin, covering most of the thing. The southern end had more layers of plastic and Asbestos over it.

"These boxes are in the positions where you may hide, or dodge any attack."

"Attack? So somebody will be attacking us? The judges?" Asked Fred, a smile creeping up his side.

"Nah, absurd, my boy. No. We have some, _things,_ that will be attacking you."

"Guessed it pretty much." Said Fred. "I hoped the judges would come. Fighting Crouch would make Percy throw an epileptic fit."

"So, coming to the topic. These walls will be covered by glass, see through, of course. You will be alone inside, but us judges and the entire population, along with press and the media, will be documenting it all."

"So we can't see whatever is outside, can we?" Asked Harry. Surprisingly, Fleur had remained silent since they had come. Krum had passed a few remarks on Bagman's suit while they came.

"No distractions, Harry. Nothing to worry about."

"Except any savage creature that you place inside." Commented Fleur, as Bagman chuckled. Fleur had a frown written on her forehead, her eyes scrutising every detail. She entered the underground room without asking Bagman, but Bagman merely followed, beckoning the others.

"Creatures, in the plural, Miss Delacour. Don't say that to the others. I'm just giving you all an extra tip. We have brought more than one creature to this. This is, in fact, named the Corinthian Gauntlet."

* * *

There were more hiding spots as they progressed. Fleur deduced that the first room was supposed to be easy or deadly. The others were hard to predict, for they contained more blocks that may come off as major hindrances rather than help.

The first segment, or 'Room', was circular, the radius nearing five meters. In he centre stood a pedestal, or atleast, a long cardboard box representing a pedestal. There were no other blocks in that room, meaning hat the beast within had to be fought by a minimum number of spells. Or maybe it didn't have any creatures.

It was confusing, but as they crossed over to other rooms, it was still more claustrophobic. The sources of light dimmed across the way, as they had to squint. The last room was square. By that, it meant a perfect square. The sides were equal to the last tile, and in other aspects, it was just like the first room. Devoid of anything. Not even a single block, but something in the room seemed empty. The lights of the previous room dimly lit this room too, as Fleur realised that there were no sources of light in this room. And no heat. As the entrance was in the north, this was the southern end. Covered with insulation. No further doors. And if each room was closed, that meant...

"Ze Dementors? The room eez so small, zey may suck us fast, can't zey?"

"Good lord, Miss. Dementors in Hogwarts?"

Fred snorted. "I mean, The Headmaster won't allow those vile creatures into the school after... after, um everything. So no worries. Come on then!"

"Lethifolds?" Asked Fleur, as Bagman grumpily replied "What are they?"

* * *

Ron was waiting by the stands. "I told Hermione that we would come. Dumbledore's class, you know. And what is that thing?"

"Some sort of a series of challenges. Sort of an obstacle course."

"Come on mate. Luna said we three were just needed. She isn't coming, so this is another Voldemort class."

"I suppose so. Where is she? I mean Hermione."

"She said she would wait near the gargoyle. Or in his room. Let's go. We have some free time later, Sprout cancelled the class as she is in the hospital, treated for cold."

The ascended, as they passed Snape standing outside the staff room, sipping some drink. "Ah, mister Potter. Come with me."

"Sir, we have a-"

"I wouldn't disturb you from the class with the headmaster, I shall take only a moment. Of your precious time."

They both followed Snape into the staff room, Ron being forcibly pulled on by Harry. He couldn't face the Bat alone.

"Your last class assignments were graded. I found you had scored an E. You have potential, Potter, but supervision is required if there is a need of progress. Without me in the class, you all may have excelled in Potions, but there is always Stress." He spoke of stress as though it were a separate being.

"In fact, the whole class gaining a lot at Potions is promising, except for the undeniable fact that you all lack theoretical knowledge. Following instructions, at the moment of heat, if you forgive the pun, is extremely hard, especially when it comes to Potions. Mister Weasley, it is not polite to leave when a Professor is leaving. Ten points from Gryffindor. Hence, mister Potter, and Mister Weasley, please announce to the fellow members of your batch, that you will be having a viva vice, based on whatever you have studied till now. The notice shall be put up on Monday, but seeing as tomorrow is Friday, and the fourth year double Potions is scheduled tomorrow, I am informing you earlier. Please inform the Slytherins too."

As they came out, and safely crossed the corridor, Ron started the rant.

"Viva. With Snape. We are doomed. And if he comes in reverse alphabetical order like Moody does, I am screwed. Double U..."

"I hope the class gets cancelled with Snape getting the cold from Sprout."

"And you call me a sadist."

"When it comes to Snape... by the way, did he really say we got good marks in the test?"

* * *

They returned out of the blue liquid, as Dumbledore wearily went for the chairs. "Kid Voldemort looked creepy." Said Ron, as Dumbledore chuckled. "It is our actions, mister Weasley, that define us. Your thoughts reflect on your face, your appearance, everything."

"Twits." Said Hermione, as Ron turned to face her, clearly affronted. "Yes, miss Granger. It was a book by a muggle author, mister Weasley. A good read, by the way. To imagine talking monkeys and shrinks would be outlandish to even us wizards."

Hermione smiled. "So, Voldemort did not like the orphanage. Nor did he like anyone in the place. He said he was secluded even then. The others must have thought he was weird. He thought he was weird."

"The most noticeable thing was, Miss granger, the way he responded. His reaction to his magical heritage and his powers was not the normal one you would expect from a child living in an exclusively muggle neighbourhood. Without magical contact, the chances of such a response has a very low probability. But enough of psychological analysis. We have to notice his magpie like tendency of collecting trophies. This behaviour is one of the most important aspect of YKW that I would like to shed light on."

Harry but back a smile, as Ron sniggered. "You too, professor?"

"Why, isn't it nice? Anyways, returning to the topic, I have another memory to show you all. This is one we have of a certain Hepzibah Smith, an old woman who liked her comfort. We are viewing this memory courtesy of her house elf, who was... well, we'll see, shall we? Tom Riddle worked under Borgia and Burke, after he left Hogwarts. There are multiple memories that ought to be shown of Tom Riddle when he was in school, but I feel this memory must be shown to highlight the stealing tendency that YKW displayed, and its implications. For he steals something far more valuable in this very memory, and he has done unforgivable mistakes that would never redeem him from the downward spiral he already is going on."

They entered the memory, and this time, Dumbledore stayed on his table. The three students saw the memory unveil, as Hokey, the house-elf, showed her memory. With Voldemort entering the fray, his features were so unlike the one under the turban, while nauseously alike the Riddle that came out of the Diary.

 _"I brought you flowers" he said quietly, producing a bunch of roses from nowhere._

 _"You naughty boy, you shouldn't have!" squealed old Hepzibah,_ though _she had an empty vase standing ready on the nearest little table. "You do spoil this old lady, Tom … sit down, sit down … where's Hokey … ah …"_

 _The house-elf had come dashing back into the room carrying a tray of little cakes, which she set at her mistress's elbow._

 _'Help yourself, Tom,' said Hepzibah, 'I know how you love my cakes. Now, how are you? You look pale. They overwork you at that shop, I've said it a hundred times …"_

(Excerpt From: Rowling, J.K. "Harry Potter & The Half-Blood Price." iBooks. )

He was pale, that was undeniable. Even the slightly fluorescent appearance of things, along with the hazy daze, this was obvious. The colour complexion of Hepzibah could not be more different than Voldemort.

Harry had a feeling that they would have to be more focussed on this memory, as Dumbledore might have intended this as a test to their observing skills.

 _"I had Hokey bring it out for me … Hokey, where are you? I want to show Mr Riddle our finest treasure … in fact, bring both, while you're at it …"_

(Excerpt From: Rowling, J.K. "Harry Potter & The Half-Blood Price." iBooks.)

"She's gonna get killed for anything that the elf brings. I'll bet on it. And the house elf too, avoiding witnesses, and all that." Said Ron. "I have my fingers crossed."

"No, the house elf must have survived. How else would Dumbledore... Professor Dumbledore get the memory, huh?" Said Hermione, as her attention diverted back to the scene.

" _I wonder whether you know what it is, Tom? Pick it up, have a good look!' whispered Hepzibah, and Voldemort stretched out a long-fingered hand and lifted the cup by one handle out of its snug silken wrappings. Harry thought he saw a red gleam in his dark eyes. His greedy expression was curiously mirrored on Hepzibah's face, except that her tiny eyes were fixed upon Voldemort's handsome features._

 _'A badger,' murmured Voldemort, examining the engraving upon the cup. 'Then this was …?'_

 _'Helga Hufflepuff's, as you very well know, you clever boy!' said Hepzibah, leaning forwards with a loud creaking of corsets and actually pinching his hollow cheek. 'Didn't I tell you I was distantly descended? This has been handed down in the family for years and years. Lovely, isn't it? And all sorts of powers it's supposed to possess, too, but I haven't tested them thoroughly, I just keep it nice and safe in here …"_

(Excerpt From: Rowling, J.K. "Harry Potter & The Half-Blood Price." iBooks.)

Voldemort ran his fingers along his cheek. He was probably deciding how to kill her, Harry supposed.

"So he stole it. That's it, right? What is the other treasure, then?"

Ron was answered in a minute, as the other box opened.

The serpentine S gleamed, as Harry recognised it. "Didn't the woman, Merope have it?" Hermione silently nodded, as Hepzibah continued her rhapsody. "This looks smaller, doesn't it? Eh, Harry?"

But Harry now was almost sure that this was the locket that Merope Gaunt had had. "-ragged looking woman-"

"-a fortune-" The look on Riddle's face was priceless. The need for it showed up on his face. It wasn't a need. He had a look of pure lust, as the red glow in his eyes was visible. _This belongs to me. You dare flaunt the priceless heirloom of Slytherin in front of His own heir?_

As Hepzibah spotted that look, the memory continued, as she ordered the elf to take back her possessions. The elf passed a room with four chandeliers, as it placed the two heirlooms in a safe location, near a cabinet by the clothing stand. Then it, she, went to the kitchen for cleaning some vessels.

"There are spells to do that. She is just making the elf work as a slave for even the simple things she could do." Hermione received a rebuke from both Ron and Harry for this.

"Oh, not this again. We have been through this, haven't we, Hermione?" Asked Harry, as Ron moaned.

"Mom made us do it all. Does that make me a slave?"

Just then, there was a slight sound, as Hokey jumped off to investigate. As it saw the room, he promptly fainted, a set of red eyes hovering in the background. The memory turned black, while the red eyes burned the trio's eyes.

They jumped up, as they were flushed out of the Penseive. Dumbledore was sleeping on his table.

"What do we do? Wake him up?" Dumbledore blinked, as he woke. "Ah, already? Come on, let's discuss."

"What do you think of Madam Smith? Vain, proud, open... she was a boastful woman. She met her downfall, showing her collections to the wrong person."

"He didn't come for these, sir. Voldemort just came for the... whatever Burke asked him to come for." Said Harry, as Dumbledore whisked out another flask from the holder. "Please come around. This is Caractucus Burke, who disclosed the information of how Merope Gaunt was parted of the Slytherin heirloom. For a mere 10 galleons."

They listened to the memory, playing for less an a minute. "This should have come before the memory of Madam Smith, sir." Said Hermione, as Dumbledore agreed. "In whichever order we see, the message we receive is the same. And the following events concluded the story of poor Hepzibah Smith. She was poisoned, quite obviously by her family houseelf Hokey, who was concurrently sentenced to Azkaban, what with Frederick Scamander popularising the ideas of non violence in response to magical creatures. I managed to get this confession when I visited Azkaban for another memory. We will see that memory next, but let's first discuss."

"YKW collected heirlooms, items that were important to him, everything that could help him in a penultimate reason that we would be arriving at later. For now, miss Granger, please record the items that he has stolen."

Hermione took up a piece of parchment, and picked Dumbledore's purple quill, at which Dumbledore smiled. She wrote:

"Articles stolen by L-" she stroked it out, and started off with "-Tom Riddle" Dumbledore looked up at her curiously. "I am not going to give him respect for that name. He is just another person who hates his real name and hides behind a fake one."

"I said nothing." Said Dumbledore innocently.

* * *

 **Chapter too long. Will be continued as part 2 in chapter 29, but with a different chapter title.**

 **Poll in Profile**


	29. A Bloody Trip begins

**Chapter 29: A Bloody Trip begins**

* * *

"The notions that we encounter in Tom's behaviour, they are really imperative that we notice. In his childhood, we see his hesitancy to admit his mistakes. And him claiming ownership of stolen items, has worsened over the years. If he once said "I stole it", along with a reluctant apology, the present day Tom would probably brag over the items he acquiesced by his burglary. These traits, along with his negligence of the value of life and free will, developed over time. But none can be attributed to an inherent evil. Circumstances have forced him to have such a disastrous leaning towards the dust better left unswept."

"There is another single memory that would probably make you think, but for the minute, that memory must not be shown. But we have another memory here, of a certain ring, that belonged to Lord Voldemort's bigoted grandfather, that was inherited by his son."

"Morfin?"

"Yes, of course. Marvolo didn't have a quite good experience at Azkaban. He soon passed away, leaving a drunken Morfin at home. If we analyse this timeline, we will observe that Merope Gaunt had already escaped her father's custody, and her brother's tyranny, and had chosen to live her own life. The senile old man from the hovel in the worst parts of the village has a daughter. Would the aristocracy accept? So, we can only guess that these murky waters, when we don't have substantial memories to prove history. When we extrapolate, there might be a way by which Merope got the rich heir."

"Love Potions?"

"Good. Any other means?"

"Imperius" asked Ron, having suffered a lot of forced tap dances (courtesy: Moody).

"Correct. But for this sake, we shall consider Merope using a Love potion, for she had loved Riddle very much, and that would not have made her forcibly command him. He would have been with her, but as Merope got pregnant, she must have assumed that Riddle would now love her for her son. There isn't any other reason as to why he could have left her if not for her discontinuing the Potion. Amortentia and Threth of Eros can be eliminated, for they leave significant effect on the victim's eyes and nail beds, and when Tom Riddle senior was found dead, he had neither."

"But it does not matter much whether a love potion or an Imperius was used, for both were perfectly legal till 1945. And we are studying about Tom Riddle, not his mother. If we leave this topic to rest for some time, we can next approach the next was imprisoned for killing her master. The next memory displays the same tactic, employed by the same man. Now younger. Please take note that we are not going along a chronological order. This happened when Tom studied in Hogwarts. In his sixth year, by the June, if I remember, a case came by the Wizengamot. Supposedly, Morfin Gaunt had killed three muggles of Little Hangleton, curiously named the Riddles. The matter attracted little concern, for two reasons. For one, the curiosity was mine, and none of the others shared it, for who knew, that the prodigy of Hogwarts would be even distantly related to an aristocratic muggle family? While Tom growing at an orphanage became public knowledge, similarity in names was overlooked. And for the second reason, Morfin cackled at the entire Wizengamot in glee. He openly admitted to killing the Riddles. And was proud of it. See this memory now, and I would want you to notice an important, while obvious, detail."

* * *

As th mist resolved, and their feet landed back in Dumbledore's office, Harry asked what he felt confident about. "Marvolo's ring. Voldemort looked at it greedily."

"Good, Harry."

Ron sulked. "He had to translate a full conversation. We couldn't get it under all that hissing and spitting."

"Teamwork. Now, would you all assemble over here?"

They sat down, as Dumbledore conjured an extra cushion for Hermione. He sat in the Headmaster's chair, and gave a solemn look. "While Voldemort killed the Riddles, Morfin, who had a violent history already, had been the prime suspect. With the Confundus going undetected by Demeanour Curses, Morfin was sentenced for life in Azkaban. He was never perturbed by the false memories implanted in him, and was contently in happiness, except for a single heartthrob. The family ring had disappeared. And as a matter of fact, have you noticed the ring?"

"Gold, um.." "With a sort of a stone.." "Yeah, a grey stone." "Peverell family crest, Marvolo said." "Yeah, diamond shaped." "No, he said Peverell Coat-of-arms." "What's the big difference?"

"Wonderful. But Harry, understand that a coat of arms differs enormously from a family crest, especially when an old pure blood family is concerned. For a wizard, every single coat of arms his family has had in the previous centuries matters. A family crest is totally different, which ranges from depictions of valour and victory, to favourite animals of the patriarch, or rarely the matriarch. Your family might have a crest, but coat of arms may be passed on, from heir to heir, daughter to daughter, most importantly. But curiously, very curiously, here we see that the ring depicts neither a crest nor a coat of arms."

"It is the sign of the Deathly Hallows. These were special items attributed to Death, who made a guest appearance, as one would say, in one of Beadle's most famous stories."

"The tale of the three brothers."

"Precisely, mister Weasley. I would ask you two to find a copy of the book, and read it through. Irrelevant, but fascinating. Now, let's come back to the topic."

"The ring was abducted from Morfin. It passed possession to Lord Voldemort-"

"Could we call him YKW again? It's just... the name sounds queasy since seeing him do those killings..." Ron trailed, as Dumbledore smiled. "Fear of a name... Harry would remember that quote, won't you, Harry? But it isn't wrong on your part, Ronald. I would fear the name too if it weren't for my overt pride and arrogance." He chuckled and continued.

"The time is getting out of our hands. You will have to study for the oral examination that Professor Snape has planned out for you. And for my part, as I took three hours of your time today, I would help you three by giving you the first question that he would ask each of you. The Janitor theory of constant proportions. Or was it Jefferson?"

"Hermione, we don't want you to state it out now." Said Harry, as Hermione scowled. "I wasn't going to, idiot."

"Anyhow. Study well, and Harry-"

Harry looked up, as a smile played on the eyes of the headmaster. "Good luck for the first task."

* * *

"The Jefferson theory is just simple, Ron. Assuming temperature is increasing at a rate of one degree Fahrenheit per minute till the boiling point of water at the chosen pressure, and with constant total number of degrees of the maximal sacrilegious constant, we get that D is equal to the fourth power of G, multiplied by the cauldron index, and divided by the gas constant."

As Ron blinked, Hermione clarified. "R, gas constant. P times V is nRT, remember? Combining..."

"That look means that he didn't understand a word of what you said."

"See, there are multiple variables here, alright? Consider the cauldron. The index differs upon the percentage metal used in the making. Pewter, silver, you get it? Then, take the ideal gas equation. Without the corrections for a non ideal gas, because Greyworm tears, when vaporised, follow ideal gas kinetics."

"Ok, so, the ideal gas equation, climbed with Lombard's dragon talon formula-"

"Yes, combining them, for the pressure maintenance, we get..."

She wrote the three equations on a paper.

PV=nRT (Pressure x vol. = no. Of moles x gas const. x temp.)

F= (Dnr^2)/PsS (Force gen. by one std. talon = Dragon talon index x no. Of moles x radius of base of talon squared/ pressure x solvent gradation x suction pressure.)

T=kF(n) (Temp. Is directly proportional on force generation of any number, i.e. n. K is the proportionality constant.

"So, there are two pressure coefficients on the second equation. Solvent gradation, and the talon index make this very specific, and-"

"Wait. The theory says the gravitational constant and the Cauldron index ought to come in here somewhere. We missed it, didn't we?"

"No, we have to solve for- Oh, hey Harry!"

Harry entered the common room. "Lovebirds." Said he. "What, no, of course not." Said Ron, but didn't budge. Harry smiled playfully, as he came there. "Nah, just repeating your dialogue. I know Hermione has taste."

Ron punched his thigh, as Harry saw the calculations. "Just memorise the statement Ron, he won't have time to make you derive them. And have you seen Insomnus' potion instructions? It seemed so easy, but it looks complex now. I can't remember a single thing..."

"So you saw the others? From Slytherin?"

"Yeah, I informed Greengrass. Daphne, not her sister, I know she's a year below us. Daphne is a bit soft, by the way. Not like other Slytherins."

"Yeah, she is quiet. That makes me wonder how she got into Slytherin in the first place." Said Ron. "You saw them in the, where? Library?"

"Yeah, I checked out the three books in Arithmancy Moody asked me to read. Long theory though. But Divination sounds easy to pass."

Hermione showed the papers, as Ron stared. The parchment was covered to the last inch with a detailed derivation, culminating with a 'Hence, the theory of constant proportions was verified and proved.'

"How in the name of Merlin's..."

[Author's note: I refuse to relay such extreme curse words when they refer to the Great sorceror of Arthur's halls.]

* * *

The potion is brewing. Lucius took up the stirring as soon as he came back. Narcissa seemed relieved, while her house elf was hyperventilating on a pool of tears. The elf had been distressed over her master's working. It seemed she would asphyxiate.

"Go clean the garden of the vermin that the peacocks feast on."

"My Lord, there are a few snakes too..."

"Not my concern, Lucius, if they slither around hissing. They seem to be in a hurry to get caught anyways. Do not kill, just remove them off the premises."

The potion is almost complete. It still needed a month to mature to a lighter shade of lilac. The final stages required an absolutely sterile condition, seeing as a human body was desired.

The instructions for this potion were excruciatingly simple. The major hindrance was the rarity of the items required. Dumbledore was sure to track down such focussed Potions ingredients coming to a single destination. Therefore it had taken a lot of effort to find enough substance. Half of the ingredients, I knew, were easily available in the forests of Albania.

The Prophet lay open in front of us. At the crack of dawn, the second senior most member of the Board of Governors, Lequard, had died of rooster screams while suffering under an acute attack of gnome bites. This news had decorated the first page. Typical Prophet. Starting off Friday morning with news of a demise.

Narcissa had requested for releasing her sister from Azkaban. I sensed she still harboured affection for her siblings, even the disgraced one. She had not hidden it, too.

But I would have postponed breaking out Bellatrix before I really needed her aid. For she was unpredictable, and too barbaric. I had a touch of finesse in my actions, and I was more fond of the "Cooler than thou" vibe. She lacked that, and had a desperate hunger for seeing pain and misery, that even Dementors might become food for her.

That thought sounded disgusting.

* * *

"I will call each of you to my room. Five minutes for each. Marks will be recorded as if you are attempting your OWLs. I shall call randomly."

"Random?" Whispered Ron, as Blaise went inside, with a last glance at the One thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi appendix.

Ten minutes later, when Blaise and Lavender didn't return, Ron was called in.

Ron was whimpering, and muttered something that incoherently sounded like 'Merlin's unwashed handkerchief'. He glanced back, as Harry mouthed a 'Good luck'.

Ron entered the store room.

"Mister Weasley. Please derive the second half of Frederickson's equation."

"Proof for Jefferson's theory?"

Snape raised an eyebrow, as if wondering how Ron had known this. "Yes."

Ron felt like his chest had burst into a hundred feathers. He exhaled, and progressed onto the long calculation. He took a quarter of the spare blackboard, and in the end, paused, as Snape wore an amused expression on his face.

"I am glad that you have listened to Miss Granger for once. E. Go. Clean the board before that." As Snape scribbled an E on his pad, Ron turned and after a minute with the duster, he made for the door. He saw Lavender and Blaise sitting on desks placed near the fourth cupboard. They hadn't answered correctly, probably. They stole glances at Ron, as he passed them. Snape called him back. "Mister Weasley. Go back to your common room. Do not linger."

So Snape was repeating the same question for all of them. Ron sniggered, as he went to the stairs. The dungeons had been specifically placed at lower levels to minimise heat. Moist air was good for multiple Potions (Credits: Hermione). Ron climbed the second flight, as the grounds shone an inviting light. He placed his bag near the pillars on near the statue of Herbert the Despot.

The air was inviting, for sure. He saw Dumbledore at a distance, speaking with somebody who had his back turned to Ron. As Ron made to turn away, Dumbledore spotted him. "Mister Weasley? Ronald?" He called.

Ron twisted, and approached he Headmaster with a "Yes, Professor."

"Hello, Ron." Said Lupin. "Professor Lupin?"

"Not professor anymore, Ron. We wanted to meet you. It was fortunate indeed that you came out early. We were about to disturb you from Severus' class."

"Me? Why?"

"Actually, it is unfortunate that Harry was chosen to be the other champion to participate in the tournament. And I heard that you were extremely sorry, for what you had done." Ron looked at Dumbledore. It was true. He had met Dumbledore after a feast, before Christmas, when Dumbledore had asked him for reasons why he had put in Harry's name. He had confessed to his mistake, while Dumbledore had seemed forgiving.

"Professor Dumbledore and I have some work to do. Both require a company. Tomorrow's classes have been cancelled owing to the death of Margarita Lequard, a member of the board of governors. You will have to accompany us on dangerous journeys, one with me and the other with our Headmaster, as... um, penance for you putting Harry's name in."

Ron gave a shocked expression that made him look like he did not understand.

"Journeys? Like what?"

"Professor Dumbledore will brief you on whatever he has. You will acccompany him first. I don't know what he has in mind, but I am sure it would be enjoyable. You will return tomorrow, with me. I leave you two alone. Good evening, Professor."

Dumbledore nodded, with a smile, as Ron fidgeted. Lupin did not move. Instead, Dumbledore patted Ron on the shoulder, and moved towards the gates of Hogwarts. Ron saw the two boars gazing on him, as he crossed the boundaries. He licked his lip in anticipation, as Dumbledore stopped. He plucked out his watch, as he muttered. "Time is our anathema, as always, wouldn't you agree, mister Weasley?"

Ron looked at him, while the sun was held an unrelenting staring contest with them both, though they both weren't looking at their adversary. Dumbledore put back the stopwatch within his robes, and straightened.

"Afraid of something, Ronald?"

"Would we be doing anything dangerous?"

"Surely."

* * *

Harry returned to the dormitory, along with Seamus, to find it empty. Sure, Neville and Dean were sitting in Snape's room for not answering the question, but Ron was supposed to be here.

"Where's Ron, Harry?" Asked Seamus, as he climbed down. "Dunno. He said he would wait here, I think. No, not really. He was tense, but he answered the question. He didn't say anything about coming back here, but I figured..."

They waited on their bunkers for a bit more time, Harry dozing off midway. Seamus was on the verge to a good sleep, because he figured that he won't be getting a sleep soon. He went near the window, as he saw a distant figure waving at the gates of Hogwarts, wearing a slightly shabby clothing. Seamus squinted.

It was Lupin. Before Seamus could react, possibly with a violent shake on the two friends below his bunker, he heard footsteps. Someone climbed up, and Seamus could hear something that would make his life worth living.

"Psst. Won-Won?"

* * *

 **Long too. Segment continues to next chapter. Sorry, but I usually limit myself to 3000-4000 words per chapter. This one is was about to do some exceeding.**

 **So, I cut some stuff, moved it to the next chapter, and voila, here you go!**

 **Vote on the Poll!**


	30. A Familiar Cave

**Chapter 30: A Familiar Cave**

* * *

The sea whipped around their faces. Dumbledore looked like the definition of windswept. The salty air seemed so different from the climate at Hogwarts.

Ron could see the blue water all around them, and a large rock jutting outwards in front of them.

"This is an old camping site. There used to be a... um, excursion to this spot, where something happened." Said Dumbledore, as if hoping Ron would catch some clues.

"Vol- you mean, that Orphanage... Wool's Orphanage...You-Know-Who..."

"Precisely. Or, to be precise, YKW." Dumbledore chuckled, and turned. "You know how to swim, Mister Weasley?"

Without waiting for a reply, he flipped, and dived feet-first into the water. Ron looked at the old man, as he swam with grace. "Must be the mermaids." Said Ron, to himself, and without much trepidation, followed course.

He followed Dumbledore. The sun was still in the dilemma of whether or not to set. Ron breathed out as the water was in between ice-cold and cold. He saw Dumbledore a few meters ahead, as he waded through the water. Dumbledore stepped up near the entrance to a spot on ground, illuminated under the glow of the evening sun.

Ron came over, and as Dumbledore dried their clothes, Ron asked him. "They chose this for a picnic spot? Why? Too spooky even for Halloween, this spot." His eyes looked at a decaying body near the edge of a flight of stairs. More stairs sprawled the distance behind them, nicely carved into stone and well protected from water entering. It almost seemed natural, but Dumbledore interjected into Ron's thoughts. "Magically done to provide passage. This part was supposed to be accessible only via a specific series of stairs. Namely, the one ahead of us. Anything flying would have been..." Ron got the gist, but Dumbledore unnecessarily levitated a stone, as it vaporised into thin air upon crossing the third step.

"Wait." Ron had no intention of proceeding, so he obeyed the command. Dumbledore made a few swishes and motions that looked like he was garrotting someone with his wand and an imaginary curled fist.

He picked up a cylinder of orange light, as the pathway darkened ahead. "False light. That is how you spot it. Aviation curses usually cast a lightened atmosphere. This area is isolated from light by the stone wall over there."

Ron followed the Headmaster, as he approached the corpse. In front of the man were two more, each with long black or brown hair and with untrimmed beards. All were crushed under rocks. Immense ones. Ron swallowed, as a foul wet smell lingered. Dumbledore lifted another enchantment, as the bodies started decomposing fast. In moments, they were half decayed, as an extremely bad odour tortured Ron's nose. He choked, as Dumbledore cast a Bubble-head charm. They moved slightly away, and Ron understood that he would receive an explanation soon after. Suddenly, Dumbledore ducked towards the nearest corpse. Ron noticed that he did not have a bubble over his head. Dumbledore levitated a rock, as there was a sick and pungent order. Ron retched, as the scene in front of them unfolded. Dumbledore was holding his breath, obviously, as he cast a bubble after casting off the rock outwards, into the sea. Dumbledore frowned, and conjured a vial. He then muttered Scourgify, at Ron, whose bubble had comfortably let all the vomit through. Ron wiped his face, and felt a bit giddy.

There were around twenty corpses, each in a state of rot. With the stasis charms removed, some had decomposed to leave noting but skeletons.

"More lie beneath those rocks. But the reason we came is different." Said Dumbledore, as he raised the vial, and cut a section of the first corpse they saw.

"Have you noticed, Mister Weasley, any way that this body might be different? From the rest?"

It was rather obvious. "These three look less slimier. And they have been killed by the rocks. The other ones... killing curses?" Ron wore a shocked expression, as he glanced at the Headmaster.

"Astute, Ronald, but a single fallacy. The one with the goatee. Here..." he moved closer to another of the three bodies they had seen, before the rock had revealed the horror. "See the post-mortem injuries inflicted here. Here. The right shoulder. The boulder has struck after he died. Or after he was killed. Observe that the wound is not swollen, as it would be if there had been a real attack."

Ron saw and agreed without any conflicting ideas, but why should they all be dead except for...

"He was here. I got that already. But what of all these bodies? If he killed all these people, he would have got much more attention... And why were they all killed? What..."

He saw the Headmaster flinging the sleeve of the dead werewolf, but there was no mark that identified him as a Death-Eater. Dumbledore looked at Ron, without getting up. "See here." A marking of a scowling wolf grimaced at them.

"Werewolves." "Yes. Werewolves. Tom has already managed to gather some of the faithful followers. I believe the others were werewolves too, for they are neither Pettigrew, nor Macnair. Greyback isn't here too."

"Greyback? Fenris Greyback?" "Yes. He was one of the Dark-Lord's ardent followers, and one of the major rallying force behind his werewolf legions."

"Why did we come here, then? Did you expect this?"

"Expect death? No. But yes. I expected this cave to have been destroyed. There are multiple more levels of understanding, doors, through which you must pass till you are accustomed to accept the shocking truth."

* * *

Dreams were foreign to Grindelwald. His was more oriented to the word 'goals'. Seraphina was plucking at a pillow nearby. She had taken the larger sized bed at the first choice, but she hadn't known that her master had bought a separate room for himself.

They were staying at the Poikilothermos, one of the infamous taverns in Greece. They had no trouble with accommodations. Well, it hadn't counted as trouble. The owner was not too comfortable with the prospect of having a criminal in his doorstep, but Gellert was not 'wanted', as at the moment, he was stuck in Nurmengard, possibly dead to most of the world. The owner was then placed under an Imperius, for just that purpose. Seraphina had asked for a free of cost service, which, in her mind, had included the suite room for her too.

For some crooked reason and meddled plan, Dumbledore had not made the escape of Grindelwald known to the World. Grindelwald knew that Dumbledore was having extremely convoluted plans for his enemy, which began at the escape itself. Why else would the water supply made extensive? It was not water, he had realised long ago.

Dumbledore had mixed some kind of odourless memory potion, one that hopefully didn't cause an Alzheimer's, Grindelwald thought. He had had lingering effects of the potion, and he remembered that whenever he had consumed it, it let him forget the purpose. His purpose. But how Dumbledore had included an alteration charm to the potion was incredible. He had been forced to think of himself as some mere servant of the Voldemort person. Grindelwald pulled off the cap from the bottle of Sprite.

"Sprite? You are a Dark lord, and you drink cool drinks? What about wine? I'm having minds about working with you now, seriously..." said Seraphina, shaking her half empty bottle of water.

"Alcohol never helps." Said Grindelwald. He had had enough of that talk from his old enemy, decades ago.

"So then, Greece. Could we go to the Parthenon? Good sightseeing. Or another graveyard?" Seraphina sulked. She had been forced to come to another graveyard in the last week. She had lost the taste for sleeping in coffins. Beds were much more comfier. What was she, a zombie? She had been bitten by her mother, after she had been left with no other options.

Vampires had always coveted the night. But here she was, waking up to the bright daylight. The circus woman had assured her that daylight was safe for another decade, because the basal metabolism in Vampires was slower than in humans. She was stretching, as she saw Grindelwald in her room, on the sofa.

"Then graveyard it is." She frowned, as the man wore he same expression. He took another sip of the drink, while she made her hair look less frizzy near the mirror.

"Actually, the Parthenon sounds right." She turned, and saw him grinning. "Just a bit below."

* * *

As the old man and the boy, both in vivid out-of-season Halloween clothes, crossed him, Frank Bryce stared at them. Visitors were unusual in Little Hangleton, even the children were so "mature", they didn't bother with costuming up for Halloween. Frank went a few feet past them, as he heard a gate creak.

The doors to the Riddle house had been opened. Frank turned, as he saw the old man proceed fast, in a rapid way. Frank would not have expected that speed even in the youths these days.

Frank followed them, his leg making as much noise as the door. Frank had never lost the inquisitive gut that hit him hard at times. With the screams at the Riddle Manor all those years ago, Frank must have been the normal citizen and whisled his way out. Instead, he had gone in, and was found near his former masters who were cold as... well, cold as dead bodies (You know that the Riddles are dead. The author just likes to complicate sentences).

The two men... no, the adult and the teen... no, the people, the two people (The author is thinking of what to write) moved further inside the compound, as Frank saw that they were not approaching the building.

"Grave robbers," thought Frank. "Not a single penny here, all they left was at the bank." He neared them, but thought of maintaining a distance. The old man pulled out some kind of a stick. Frank saw him raise it, as he shifted further behind the oak. They had started talking. "See, Ronald? Voldemort has already started. An arcane working. It is in accordance that this information should be shared with Harry and Hermione when they are free of stress. By that, I mean, when they are relieved of the first task."

"Yes sir. But, why Hermione? She could've come with us, can't she?"

"Yes, but you came out first." Dumbledore shrugged as if that was self explanatory. "Miss Granger hadn't completed her viva, and I wanted to save daylight before we got to a graveyard."

Frank twisted. Nothing made sense. This conversation was about someone in some task. And it was obviously a continuation of an already briefed conversation, because neither a head nor a tail was visible. The man had brought the kid to the graveyard for some reason, but it wasn't a typical scare. Even the sun had two minds about setting. (The author has some level of curiosity about the 'evening glow' phrase appearing in his text. Ok, I get it. This backchat is debilitating) Not the average scare by midnight. Frank eased up from behind the oak, as he spotted what the old man was holding. Without any support, a skeleton, missing a few bones, was levitating.

Frank fainted.

* * *

A dull thud shook Ron out of his attention. Dumbledore caught his arm, while his instinct made him look sideways near the tree. A balding man, in his sixties, perhaps, was lying on the ground. Unconscious.

"Must've been the skeleton." Dumbledore chuckled. "Don't mind him, mister Weasley. Do you remember what we spoke of when we came here from the Gaunt shack?"

Ron nodded. The shack had been more devastated, if there could be more, that is, from the memory. Some of the protective enchantments had been askew, the headmaster had said. They hadn't lingered there for long. Voldemort had come there, while inhabiting Bertha Jorkins. (Fun fact: Bertha jorkins had been proposed for a damage and loss fund under the recommendation of the chief warlock. She now lives in a premature retirement life, with the provision of a thousand galleons more than enough for a lifetime.)

Dumbledore said that Voldemort had hidden something, and the first thing that had come to Ron's mind was the Gaunt ring. Not that anyone in their right minds would hide something they stole from the very house, and then hide it in, surprise, the same house. But then, YKW was crazy, anyways.

Another topic he had touched, was regarding various means an idiot could reincarnate, slash rebirth (Ron was unsure if a verb even existed for a person being reborn to be said by himself. "Yay, I am reborn-ing right now!" Didn't sound right.) A possible suggestion was an ancient ritual. As most other rituals required a extinct subspecies of Golden Snitches (the bird, by the way), Dumbledore had eliminated them all. He had told Ron of the schematic planning he had done to arrive at the result, and Ron had seen now, with proof, that the skeleton missed the thigh bones. Of both legs. YKW had plucked off the bones of his father, for enabling him to get a new body.

"Bloody sick." Ron realised he had spoken it out loud, as Dumbledore turned. "Yes, pretty much. One would rather prefer to die, wouldn't he?"

"There is much, much more to this, but that would be better left for all three of you to study, wouldn't it? Now come on, Ronald, there is more."

It was January, and the cold was intense. Even though he had been dried after swimming back to the Apparation site, Ron still felt the bare cold hitting at him. He followed Dumbledore, as the old man caugh his hand suddenly, and he felt his head swimming in the blankness of the apparating process.

* * *

The packing process took a long time. Bill counterchecked each form, as Anne was off duty for the day. On the other side, the King had come out, graciously, to the second room, and had been left with the translator, who was replying to something in a frightened tone.

"Any problems?" Asked Bill, walking to the translator. "No, just assuring the emperor that his servants shall come back swiftly. Anything else?"

"And for the sphinxes, Dumbledore said he would need four too. And with Harry Potter getting selected as fourth champion, we would have to make adjustments to the heiroglyph arrays for these ones too."

"Couldn't we ask him about that later? It can wait, please. His highness is not in a good mood today."

"Why?"

"Well, some of his... um, later, mister Weasley." Bill nodded, as West came over. "So ten mummies, with four tablets with champion names inscribed-"

"Oh, so you completed the assay?" "Yes sir. And their names have been enclosed within cartouches, and the canopy jars have been removed from their tombs for their sake."

Bill nodded. For servants, crossing the boundary of Egypt, motherland, had adverse effects if their hearts were not taken along with them. With Anubis weighing them, the servants would not even prefer to have their hearts far from their body.

"And your posting order came, sir. Ma'am Anne asked me to tell you to wait till she came for the relieving." Anne was quite particular about having her surname to herself. Bill was second in command to her, here. He took the posting letter, which was enclosed in an envelope sealed with golden amber, the sign of Gringotts bank.

 _Dear Mister Bill Weasley_

 _You have been posted to Nome 3, Cattle land, by his highness, Goblin king Throllwed the Merciful, for the year 1994-1996. Please report to Chamberlord Frost, commander of the second fleet, by 31 January 1994. Work at previously posted city shall terminate by 30 January 1994._

 _Signed, Ptergwest,_

 _Senior Collector,_

 _in-charge for Lower Egypt nomes,_

 _Gringotts bank_

Placed here was a red stamp, signed by Ptergwest.

"Cattle land? What has Gringotts got to do with cattle?"

"Cattle land is Alexandria, Mister Weasley" said West.

* * *

"Have you seen Ron?" Asked Harry. He and Seamus had run to greet Lupin, near the courtyard, where he had been grinning and refusing the title of Professor for most of the time. It simply didn't come to the tongues of the students to call a former Professor by first name, or even the surname, but Mister Lupin sounded so foreign, after the entirety of the last year.

"Yes, of course, Harry. He had something to ask Professor Dumbledore about. He went for that."

"No, sir. I saw him and the headmaster walking out somewhere. You were there too, waving them off." Seamus folded his hands as if he had made an extremely valid point in a crime scene.

"Where are they, Professor? Lupin?" Harry bit his lip. It was awkward to call him by the surname too.

"Just call me Remus. I'm sure Ron will tell you what he sees with the Headmaster." Lupin seemed to casually wave off the question, as though it wasn't his concern. He then obviously changed the track of speech, which was when Harry cocked his head sideways.

"Whoa, that's Hagrid's hut, why can't we have a bit of a snack there?"

"Seriously, Remus?" Asked Harry. "What? Am I not allowed a diversion from you pesky lots poking in?" Lupin chuckled, and put both of his hands within his coat pockets. Then he made off to Hagrid's, with some sort of an enthusiastic running, that looked awkward when both his hands were not swinging.

Harry followed, as Seamus trailed along. He had never been to Hagrid's hut personally, but he was sure the giant of a man wouldn't mind.

* * *

Greyback sniffed around. Not a soul nearby. He had been distracted by a few rabbits, and while the path ahead was not dangerous in any way, it was not prudent that he let his attention waver. He had not been in the track records of the ministry, after all the efforts of The Erythematous Lupines, the gentlemanly society of 'civilised' werewolves, who had argued vehemently against the (now)Senior Undersecretary's opinions about werewolves. Especially useful, for now, was the emigration facilities available in privileged flights in Muggle society. The wizarding community controlled multiple, if not most of the travelling services that the muggle world offered, but using them was a different matter altogether.

Six months ago, the Erythematous Lupines had submitted case files regarding werewolf abuse, that had actually grasped newspapers until the Triwizard tournament came along for the headlines. There were rumours surrounding the Ministry response to their case. Most plausible, was the Exchange, or so it was called. The Society were offered the better part, and the legislation passed in their favour, but surreptitiously, Dolores Umbridge had taken up the post of Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic in less than a week. Political Negotiations, but the problem was solved for the moment. Werewolves could use muggle travel services without being submitted to thorough medical examination and sanity checks.

Greyback leaned against the wall. He had not been able to avail a wand for the past few years, since he had gone into hiding, but the smuggled wand would do fine when used in a foreign country.

He raised the wand, as the approaching moonlight made him restless. "Should've come earlier," he said to himself.

The alarm blazed, as the old man came out of the secluded house. The raised wand was always the perfect lure, and it had a 100% success rate in bringing victims to their doorstep. To their doom.

* * *

 **Grindelwald's escape shall be explained in the next chapter. Stay tuned!**


	31. Alexandria

**Chapter 31 - Alexandria**

The mild breeze ruffled his hair, as Gellert Grindelwald prepared to move past the doors of Stone. The doors were multiple portals leading from the bottom of the Parthenon to the spot they were currently in, near Crete. The vampire would wait outside till he returned. The afternoon Sun greeted him from above, searing through his blonde hair, while he didn't mind the disturbance. He had once terrorised the entire European continent, but his international coverage, so to speak, had been vital for the support he gained. Adolf had not been isolated in his pursuit of soldiers. Gellert had aided him for more, more allies.

The walls had been broken, but the fortress had been highly resistant to assault. Wizards had staged the destruction of six out of the seven Ancient Wonders. The pyramids were avoided, not because of the fear of muggles, but because of the enormous tourist potential it offered. Babylon refused to surrender the Gardens for muggle eyes. And Egypt had Alexandria to offer. The air shimmered in front, as the gap in the air allowed him to move forth.

The glamour took effect as soon as Gellert sensed human presence. He was impressed with the owner of the Corcus. Her aid to the modifications to the standard glamour charms was astounding. Gellert found himself marveling at the work of others recently, but he had always felt that due respect was to be given for an achievement, whether accomplished by a friend or a foe. But complementing Dumbledore had actually been quite irritating.

People walking the rows of the marvelous library, showcasing the true potential of the universe, did not mind the grey haired short man, who held not the wand that an entire continent had feared. In fact, he hoped he would get it back soon.

* * *

Bill Weasley shoved past the dwarves. It was queer, how dwarves even appeared at this place, a place where not a single fleck of the snow they loved showed up. Such was the greatness of Alexandria. Another squabbling pile of dwarves roamed near the registration desk, while a group of distasteful goblins looked on from a distance, rolling Swiss Army knives in their palms. Badmouthing Dwarves, of course. Wars between the two races had raised the feud even more wilder that the hatred they respectively had against humans.

He came to this new site two weeks earlier before his posting started, just because he wanted to know his workstations in Gringotts of Alexandria before he left for the first task. It had been postponed for another week, owing to the death of some board member, and if it were so, he wouldn't have enough time to make up his room before the month ended. He had just finished viewing all the work indices, and the city was larger, so it included the added work of Book Registry, only in case of international sources. He reported to the person mentioned on the letter, and had no comments for him. Frost specialised in maintaining records for the docks, and had told him that he would keep on doing that. So, with just the Books to take care of, Bill visited the famed library.

The ceiling was high, very high, with the appearance of an old castle, with all the statues to Thoth decorating the pillars on either side. The gold plated walls were glinting in the light, and multiple silver chandeliers decorated the high ceiling. Three of the goblins from the bank stood next to him, while Bill got the authorisation seal. The archives were not open to everybody, only pure-bloods were allowed. These parts of the world, especially all the wonders, Bill knew, were restricted only to pure-bloods. Unusual for the average wizarding population, most of the people wore actual muggle clothing. He himself was clad in a T-shirt, with a pair of jeans, for this. He planned on joining formally by the thirty first. A goblin server served them goblets of what smelled like Fanta. He asked for a cup of water. He was parched.

* * *

Seraphina waited for a full ten minutes before she followed. The old fool had left her standing out, while he went in the library for some reason. The doors of Stone allowed passage into the library via the second floor entrance, where the books and manuscripts regarding Alchemy, Altruism and Amenity management were segregated. At least on the first few meters. She could peek through the slit left by the door, and these were the only ones ground floor was fully for staff and other visitors, and it included the food court. The library spanned a few miles longitudinally, and included mechinations similar to conveyor belts for motion from one side to the other.

As she peeked in, she realised her mistake.

* * *

A golden uniform blaring troop of Goblins moved fast, as Bill turned to face Draggwer. "What happened?"

"Some Vampire has broken in. The G.G.P.T.A.R. is following to arrest, possibly kill. You humans have a weak nose."

Bill crushed the paper cup from which he was drinking the water from. As he searched for a bin, he spotted a pair of women being pushed over at the stairs. He raised his hand, but remembered that he had deposited his wand at the registration. The library was safe, but they did not take chances with the safety of the books. Wands, staffs, and all other Magic channels were forbidden from the first three feet. The wands were tagged, labelled, and safely deposited in working trays, and were then issued back when the person left the library.

A couple of men ran over, but a red figure jumped upon them, as the golden goblin police followed the figure. Bill moved over to the right side of the cafeteria as he brushed past a dwarf yelling.

"Vampire!" Bill presumed the dwarf to be a female, owing to the absence of a beard. The vampire wore flowing clothes, a long red overcoat and a tight suit inside. Suit as in a shirt, a tie and a pressed pant. It was obviously a woman, and as she crossed three more dwarves, she stopped for a moment, and bit a woman on the side. The crowd roared, a reverberating "Ooh", as Bill moved towards the incident. The woman was bleeding from the throat, and was losing blood fast.

"Please, Please, move, I'm a healer, please!" A man in a business suit rushed over, as Bill tried to hold the woman up. Blood was soaking his shirt, but it was only an old one, for all he cared. He rushed to the foot of the staircase, as some goblins looked on apprehensively. "Please, a wand!" screamed the healer, as Bill waded through the crowd. The vampire wore a red overcoat, dramatically swinging as she utilised her obvious lead over the Goblin force. It was a woman, as a matter of fact. "Could anyone please get me a damned wand!" the man shouted, in a heavy American accent.

Bill turned and came back to the spot where the woman was injured. She was losing a lot of blood, and some were crowding over her, obscuring Bill's view.

"You goblins!" shouted Bill. "Get the healer a wand! Help us when trying to save..." the healer had a Wand in hand. He was already casting a severity reduction and Bone Marrow elevation charm. The blood flowing out was venous, said the colour of the blood.

"She could be saved. Can she be taken to Adrath Pros?" Pros was the nearest magical malady curing centre. The healer examined her pulse for another moment, and then pulled the wand to her blood, with a "Priori Incantatem". The toxin levels displayed in the air, though Bill was standing opposite to the hovering holographic letters.

The healer stood. "No. No need for a hospitalisation, the fangs hadn't pierced. That woman only wanted to distract the police." Bill nodded, but many of the visitors surrounding them were in a confused look. Of course, Vampire was in the common tongue, but English didn't belong here. Pothwet, another of the accompanying goblins, who had showed Bill around his new office, translated the healer's proclamation in French. Bill was about to respond with "Why French?" but the crowd had already started to dissociate.

"French is universal, Mister Weasley."

Bill ignored the remark, obviously hinted at the confused expression of his. He thanked the goblin for giving the wand.

"Not me. That old man in the checkered shirt." Bill turned, as a short, grey haired man smiled, half his teeth lost. As he looked at him, two of the gold clad officers came across.

"Who had a wand over here?"

The crowd started mumbling. Bill could hear whispers about the cold blooded police asking for reasons, about that man who had saved a life. But coming to that trail of thought, Bill found it curious as to why indeed the man was carrying a wand, when it so clearly stated against the admittance of Magic channeling devices on the front desk? As the guard neared, a woman swung her handbag, as she complained. "What for? This good man over here saved our poor girl here, officer! Honestly..." She looked British, but the officer ignored her. The smiling bald man took his wand back from the healer, and as he pocketed it, the Goblin officer frowned, and threw scimitars at him from his eyes. He had his hand held out, but the man wasn't responding.

"Playing the insolent pig here, are we?" Growled the Goblin, as two more of his fellows caught up.

Bill piped up. "So you let the vampire escape, didn't you? That's why you are plucking on this innocent man here?"

"Please keep out of this. This is a mere enquiry. Mister?" He turned to the man, as Bill turned, exasperated. This wasn't going anywhere. Still, he man brought a wand, and anyways that was not permitted. How he did it past the detectors was baffling, unless he had taken some other entry...

* * *

He looked, rather, glared at the guard, as he asked him to come along. He was used to this pulling, and he knew that the idiotic vampire would not be the means of his escape. He allowed himself to be dragged, as his wand was confiscated. It was no problem; the world did not know Gellert Grindelwald's wand, neither wood nor core. The wizarding case record maintenence services had not been established till 1956, as he had learnt from all the documents he had procured since Halloween.

The guard, though being the subhuman Goblin, had a good deal of strength, as the pulling worsened in tightness with each drag. Another one kicked at his leg from behind, as he kneeled.

"Lost the vampire, so caught the innocent, have we?" he asked. The blow landed on his wrist, as the guard swung the small baton he carried. Honestly, Batons?

"British, eh?"

"Oh, what a good job you do with accents! I wouldn't have arrived at that conclusion..." He replied, his German accent obvious. The other goblin got the hint. He screeched some words in Gobbledegook, as the first one punched his face.

"Shut up, French grandpa!"

* * *

They pulled him to the rooms near the end of the corridor to the side, as he saw that they had actually crossed the cafeteria on the far side through the windows. The heat showed up, as the room only had a creaking fan. The two guards switched on the light, and expressed their kindness by switching off the fan.

Their detaining room was suffering a lot, and might have been a warehouse, rather. The floor was dirty, though dry, while the walls were cracked. He could see the broken sections of the walls, while the one to his right actually was having a large gaping hole, sprouting into the kitchens.

The first one whispered something to his partner, as he exited the room, with Grindelwald's wand. The second one glanced at Gellert, but as he followed his companion, Gellert heard the soft sound of the door closing.

White hair suddenly sprang up near his eyes, as he felt his upper lip bulge. The glamour had worn off, and the hit to his face had drawn blood. He could taste the foul taste in his mouth. He spat by the side, as his attention dropped to a piece of paper that had been crumpled up.

He touched his hands. They had been bound by a handcuff, and his leg was weak. The kick was not anticipated, and it had been painful.

"Oof..." He muttered, as he shifted close to that bit.

He reconsidered, his old wand's confiscation coming to his mind. He ignored that urge, and started his work on the paper.

He had used the water channels in Nurmengard to escape. Water was always so easy to control, and even the most miserable dunce would find it easy in comparison to metallic transformations and weather terming. The water source had reached till the ground, but it had been the prophecy by Pandora Lovegood that had released him.

He felt deprived, weak, without knowing what the prophecy intended for him. There was no knowing where to strike the metal, where it had been already struck, and he certainly had a limited number of hits with his withering hammer at it.

And what more, Dumbledore, his enemy, had known precisely, what the prophecy foretold, and he must surely have cheated his way through the battleship board, that the mutual fight was. Dumbledore knew where his ships were, and speaking of which, Gellert finally knew how he was planning to attack.

The anger helped. Within minutes, the paper started sprouting water. The metal handcuffs started melting.

* * *

Seraphina waited a while by an alley, as she ditched her coat on a nearby tramp. The man looked up, as she twisted a wand, clearing the glamour off her face.

She flicked the coin, as she muttered to herself. "Does all the damned work, and has me as a slave. Brute..." ash flicked the coin into the air again, and caught it. The tramp was staring at the golden coin expectantly.

He had told her to wait outside the library. Or outside the Doors of Stone. Or outside somewhere. The old fool's words had been "Wait outside," as that was possibly the only amount of wording inscribable on a bit of a coin. It wasn't even the size of a normal galleon.

She had lured the Goblins chasing her into the crossing lanes of Kalwer Alley, the wizarding shopping center near the sixth harbour. Some had broken off midway, thankfully, and only three were in full pursuit until a mannequin in the market became her. They didn't even bother to smell out the vampire, and that had helped her.

She crossed the alley, and entered the Main Street, where the library had been concealed as an old pottery shard collection exhibit. It was just a matter of time till he would come back...

* * *

Bill watched the crowd pathetically struggling against the insurging water. He books of the library were not the concern. They were protected against any type of stress, with the most severe forms of non-human transferable spells. It was the people inside who were in serious danger. The water had already crept till knee level, and most Goblins were trying to keep their clothing dry, miserably failing to do so in the process.

Lowhide had been the manager for security forces, and his mistake a few moments ago would surely cost his job anyways. He had held onto the lever on the ground floor, which had started off the alarm system, effectively closing down any possibility of reaching the exit, or even the upper floors, as a matter of fact. They all were stuck in the lobby, the spacious room with the high ceilings, but the water was climbing up fast. Access to the wand archives was extremely restricted, and that prevented them all from even the most basic of Magic channeling.

"Anybody got a ring or somefink here?" He heard a bearded man shout out in French, then English, and then Bill shouted. "If we had, we would have been out of this mess, wouldn't we?"

"Just asking, man." The man eyed a nearby Goblin. "Plucking off our wands from us all, just to drown in a wonder of he world. Good grief, your Goblin empire sucks, boys."

Bill saw where the conversation went. Only some of the Goblins knew English here, but that few would undoubtedly spread.

" _Don't start, people. No more problems right now. We are all stuck. Don't start off."_ Bill asked the population in Gobbledegook, but the damage was done.

"Shut your mouth, filthy-"

"Don't touch me you slimy oafs. Why, enough of you lot controlling all our hard earned money. You shift out all our money from one bank to the other, claim fees, and then what? I can't see a spot where you gain money. Leeching off the old heirless vaults, are you?"

"They provide loans, sir. And please, it is not a good thing to start a fight when we are in a crisis."

"You are what, their Bootlicker, redhead?"

"No, I am Bootlicker." Said a dwarf to a side, as girls nearby suppressed weak laughs. "And you, chicken. It's not good to start off a wee fight, when we are all stuck in here, alright? Not good behaviour. Outside, do what you want, not in here, not this moment, get it? Listen to good boy here?" He pointed a bent finger at Bill, as Draggwer patted Bill on the back. The healer was nearby, but before Bill could ask his name, the room rumbled.

Draggwer punched his butt, as Bill turned. "What?" He shouted, as the grey mist set in. Draggwer was pointing vehemently at something beyond. As the Goblin collapsed, as Bill saw the image of a Black robe, swirled in the mist, before he followed Draggwer's fate.

* * *

The room expanded, as the people of the floors above him fell in. The more people witnessed this spectacle, the better it would get. Grindelwald pulled the collar. He had no idea how the body he was impersonating looked like now, but it was surely worth the try.

The screaming men fell down, and as soon as they did try standing up, they fell, a result of the potion Dumbledore incorporated in the water channels of Nurmengard. The formula had added more complexities, but the result had surprised Grindelwald. It had worked. Implanting a false memory had never been so easy. And in this large crowd, spectators, en masse.

A good show would be delivered. Preferably without casualties.


	32. A Guide to Impersonation

**Chapter 32 A Guide to Impersonation**

* * *

Ron trudged through the snow. They were walking near Muggle London, and he moved a bit more to the sidewalk, as Dumbledore continued in his fast stride.

"Keep up, Mister Weasley, we have to go there before dawn."

It was almost dawn, and Ron and Dumbledore were returning back from Grimmauld Place, the twelfth house, after visiting Harry's godfather Sirius. Lupin was supposed to meet them there, but he had sent a patronus informing Dumbledore that he couldn't come for the time being. Ron expected Dumbledore to get him back to the school by Apparation, but as Dumbledore approached the third telephone booth before Charring Cross street came into sight, Ron realised.

"We're going to the ministry, Professor?"

Dumbledore went inside the booth, and beckoned him in. "No. We are going back to Hogwarts."

"We could have apparated..."

"And risk detection? You are supposed to be at school, remember?" He caught his hand, as the swirling darkness enveloped them, dragging them onto the gates of Hogsmeade.

"Let's visit Rosmerta, shall we?"

* * *

Ron wasn't back by even morning. Harry woke up, as he picked up a crumpled robe nearby.

"Seamus, you haven't marked your clothes for laundry!"

"Nah, I did..." he mumbled in his sleep. At that precise moment, Ron fell at the last step to the door.

"Owww!" He screamed, as he limped his way onto his bed.

"Ready for some questioning, Ronnikins?" Asked Seamus, a wide grin spreading.

"Where were you?" Ron gasped as Harry started pulling his wand.

"I went for some... I..." He was unsure of how to proceed with the explanation rehearsed with Dumbledore of having been asking for the Headmaster to show the memory again as he had forgotten bits of it. And about asking for the copy of the Tales of the bard, as he had suggested. But with Lupin's patronus informing them that he had met Harry and had had a detour to Hagrid's, where he had endured an accident. The accident being Hagrid accidentally pouring a full kettle of boiling tea over Lupin. He had suffered serious burns due to that.

"I went to Dumbledore's office-"

"Liar."

"No, seriously, Dumbledore took me to his office, and we had a look at, um-"

Harry glanced at Seamus, and it struck Ron. Seamus didn't knowabout the memories, so, Harry would now obviously try to send off Seamus before asking Ron. Ron met Harry's eye, and he knew that he would escape.

"Anyways, we met Professor Lupin yesterday, and-" Harry began, and looked for a change of expression in Ron. He had been seen by Seamus from th windows the day before, so Ron lying would be spotted here. And it was also a change from the topic too...

But before Ron could reply, Seamus interjected. "Wait, a look at what? What is it with you and the Headmaster? You've been seeing him a lot more recently, both of you. Am I going to get something here? And yes, Harry, you too."

Harry spread his hands as if he were innocent, but Ron suddenly spouted. "Yeah, we saw Lupin too. He was near the grounds, yeah. We went to the gates of Hogwarts, actually, and," Ron had guessed they both had seen through the windows, so decided to keep up with that. "There are AntiApparation wards near the gates, do you know that? He showed me how to spot them." He was blabbering now, but it should divert the topic for good. "And then he told me to come with him to-"

"Wait, how do you find that wardings, huh?" Harry interjected, as Ron had the reply. "The air shimmers. Light is brighter near a ward."

Ron realised it a bit late, that Harry was intending to distract Seamus, but the sentence was over. He had to invent a new storyline, and the embellishments would be good only if there was some time.

"I slept at his room yesterday. He had some... some work to do, so he left me at his room." He blurted, and added. "There were three bowls of Cockroach Clusters. I don't know how he survives with those loads of sweets he eats. And I took five Sherbet lemons on his insistence." Ron paused, as Seamus asked. "He came back by morning?"

"Yeah, he came with a Butterbeer, from Honeydukes."

Neville came out of the bathroom, wearing a nightrobe. "Oh, Ron? You came back? I thought you were... well, where did you actually go? And did I tell you, I got an A from Snape! Acceptable! Cool, right? I missed the temperature quotient on the third step, so he pulled out a Snape... well..." Dean chuckled, and Harry turned. Dean hadn't given any sign that he was awake until now.

"And, I went down a moment ago." Continued Neville. "Before you came, Ron. Tomorrow's a Hogsmeade weekend. That extension to the tournament preponed the weekend."

"Weekend? That should actually be with today, shouldn't it? Unfair!" Seamus protested, but his attention unfortunately came back to Ron.

"What did Snape put up for you? Been getting answers from Hermione, have we?"

"I got an E. Exceeds-"

A hard slap to Ron's thigh started off the brawl the next minute. Ron hit Seamus, while shouting that his marks were no reason why Seamus got the D that he did, and with Harry protesting about his leg being the seat for Seamus' foot, and chaos ensued.

* * *

Bill woke up, and saw stars before his eyes. A few of the other men were awake, but there's was no sign of the dwarves. Goblins were there, but all were still unconscious. They were alone, a massive chamber stretched out in front, resembling a hall. Nobody was standing as far as he could see. Not even sitting up. No, there was. The black robed man. Person.

Bill arched his neck to see the man. It was obviously a man, the shape was almost visible. He squinted, but to no avail. He tried to stand, as an invisible field pushed him down forcefully, as he slumped, unconscious.

* * *

The Great Hall was clamouring over something, as the three girls entered. Hermione ignored Ron's vehement gestures for the vacant seat, as she put herself between Lavender and Neville. Ron had his mouth full, and started spraying over Dean as he pushed the paper towards Hermione.

Hermione frowned, but as she unfolded the paper, her eyes located the article that brought the dark look on Harry.

 _Unmasking unsavoury underlines:_

 _Reviews to previous episodes:_

 _"Rita does a wonderful exposure of the flaws of the so-called man of the century; Hearing about the headmaster's past dealings with arcane magic and student experimentation. Congratulations to her boldness!" 'Ep1, reviewed by Chamberley Dreyfus'_

 _"I thoroughly enjoyed the previous article on me. Please post more as this explains whatever I could have done in my spare time. Certainly gives one ideas." 'Ep2,reviewed by Albus Dumbledore'_

 _ **Episode 3: What is Dumbledore hiding with... Rubeus Hagrid?**_

 _The winner of the Witch-Weekly's maximum interviews in a week award, (all with the same, charmingly attractive, and insane Gilderoy Lockhart), Rita Skeeter, whose quill has attracted so many weeping souls has uncovered new interesting pieces of information, that will shake the cores of the great wizard of the century: Albus P.W.B. Dumbledore!_

 _Rubeus Hagrid. Son of Fridwulfa, and Prius Hagrid, is the current Keeper of the Keys and Gamekeeper. Hold my Bludgers! Who is this infamous Fridwulfa, you might ask. Members of our old fraternity, witnesses to the last giant wars would remember her as the killer, who slaughtered 14 muggles during the riots preceding the war._

 _Ignoring the past of Mister Hagrid, we still find ourself at a dilemma. How indeed, did Hagrid cross the way to Dumbledore's good friend? An outline of the deeds of Mister Rubeus Hagrid is timed out below:_

A timeline was below this, and started listing out Hagrid's past. It was nothing much, but did highlight some events as directly organised by Dumbledore. It was a collage of sorts, with scrolling letters on an invisible conveyor belt.

"Monster unleashed on Hogwarts! Student dies!"

"Rubeus Hagrid expelled from Hogwarts following Chamber incident"

"Dumbledore appoints Rubeus Hagrid as Gamekeeper; Should a delinquent get such a job? Discussions on student's lives"

"Revisit on Chamber trial; Is Hagrid innocent?"

"Dragon in Hogwarts! Gamekeeper responsible?"

"Hushed up news in Hogwarts! Alleges Senior member of W., Lucius Malfoy!"

"Dumbledore must not resign! Hogwarts shall pay!- Rubeus Hagrid"

Hermione was fed up with this. She crumpled it, and took a look at the staff table.

"Where did she get all that news from? When we searched for the Chamber in old records, it was never seen anywhere?" Asked Ron.

"Maybe she forged it. Dunno. Maybe it was with the daily Prophet archives. But look at the end. She clearly states that Hagrid is Half-Giant. This would be reflecting on his career, this would."

"Hagrid hasn't come up on the staff table for months. He stays at his cabin usually." Said Ron, as if replying to Hermione's look.

"When can he have... The Yule Ball, maybe?"

"Then why should it take so long to publish?"

"It could make sense. Hagrid was pretty drunk that day. But Rita didn't come, did she? She would have been with Bozo for the photos of us starting off..." Harry was sure he would remember that glittery green hair.

"Maybe she had some sort of muggle recorder... like a bug, or something." Said Hermione. She finished eating, as Draco Malfoy came to their table.

* * *

Bill came back to consciousness, as the Goblin next to him patted his back. He shook, as he tried to raise his head. The figure was near them.

He saw the face. A handsome man, who almost looked as if he had just crossed his teens. But he had a weight of a long time in his face, a mature look. His black hair was cleanly pulled of to a side, an obedient 'good boy' look. If it weren't for the fact that the hood was pushed off, and the black robe, and the obvious reason that he was standing, made bill sure of him. Not a friend.

A woman shrieked, as she was silenced. A red curse whistled past the air, as she gripped her throat, as it bled, bled till the blood covered her hands, and she collapsed back to the floor.

Bill noticed that the guard to stop people from standing had dissipated. Most of the others were in a sitting position, or slumped on one other. The water had subsided, but Bill could feel the wetness of the flood on his clothes. His hair was plastered to his face.

The man brushed over his hair, and in a swift motion, _flew_ to half he height of the room. Everybody was waking up now, as a flex of the man's wand brought them all to consciousness.

"Welcome. Men, women, Goblins. Children! Wonderful. Now, I believe a proper introduction is in order, owing to the... uh, unpleasant circumstances, with shrieking and shouting..." He glanced at the now dead woman. A permanent look of horror and shock was etched on her face.

Bill straightened himself. He was not foolish enough to try to do anything, not without a wand. He could see the chief Goblin, the one who had pulled down the lockdown, slowly move towards the help desk.

"I, am a servant of the wizarding world, one who is pledged to remove... remove unpleasentry, catastrophic, unworthy... meddlers, from the field. Field of life and death? Not necessarily. But from the field of Magic? Yes. Undeserving scum, rotten, scheming, plotting... all those who oppose," he licked his lips. "Oppose order."

Silence ensued. Nobody moved a muscle. The chief Goblin had his finger on a key on the desk, but was otherwise still.

"I have returned, from death at the hands of a mere disturbance. Creation has always been accompanied by destruction. We are forces of nature."

"Your wars and petty squabbles are none of our concern!" Shouted a Goblin, as the deaths started.

The man simply smiled at the Goblin, but as to the smile, Bill noticed that it was looking further away. He turned, as the wall came into his eyes.

Dwarves, every single one of them, around a hundred, were chained by invisible ropes to the walls. The man waved a hand, as each one to the wall behind Bill slumped, dead. The ones distal struggled, as the man pointed his wand at the wall to Bill's left.

Each dwarf screamed, as their hair was cut, and then sobbed.

Goblins gasped, as the dwarves shouted from the other wall. The healer was near Bill now. He whispered. "Killing dwarves in Alexandria. There will be wars from the dwarves. Goblins will be killed. Somebody has to live. Escape, to tell the truth."

The Goblin holding the key was stiff, an expression similar to pride awakened on his gnarled face. Realisation dawned on Bill. The message transmitter. The security guards on the side would have the voice transcript! Suddenly, Bill turned to the boarded side of the left wall.

Blood was splattered on the walls. The security were dead.

He looked up in time, as the man exclaimed. "Kneel, kneel, before your lord. I, Lord Voldemort, have truly risen, again, upon this wretched earth. The cleansing shall begin."

* * *

It was fun, Grindelwald felt, as he roared the foolish child's name aloud, enjoying the sight. Crawling men and women, Goblins in shock for the catastrophic changes in motion, with the howling dwarves and the dead. It was good.

He twisted the wand, as two of the women died, and the defiant man next to them collapsed to his feet.

"So where did the vampire go, people? Wasn't she your concern, hours ago? What an eventful day it has been."

This taunting was idiotic, but it had been the style of the fool. Taunting the enemy would add to the legitimacy. Voldemort should be thankful; wherever he was, Grindelwald had given a proxy for him, and it was good to think of the old man trying to pluck out his temples in search for them both. Ideologies may differ, violate. But posing as Voldemort was actually a good plan, seeing as he had not expected himself to come up with a nice escape route at such short notice.

The ingenuity was on how he had made the incident public. He allowed the Goblin to actually get the message to the outside world, and he wasn't even planning on killing them all. That might accidentally violate whatever the black haired bas- A woman appeared at the gates. The muggle entrance was locked, of course, and Grindelwald had made the main entrance unnoticeable. So she must have come through the Doors.

Seraphina.

* * *

The relentless work of Lucius had gained effect, as the solution bathed my substance. I felt a lurch, as my throats burned, fusing, my lungs taking shape, expanding, as my heart shook into working. My head felt as if it would explode, as Lucius hollered outside. The liquid was at the boiling point, and was apparently spraying out. I feel... I feel more simple. Small. The weight of the world pushed against me. I felt sick. My limbs took shape, but looked horribly childish. It would seem that this body might not be suitable in the permanent sense.

I come out, breathing in the air, putrid, welcoming, relieving. It smelled of something I had not had for a long time.

Life.

* * *

Greyback shook, as the idiot with the leather box reappeared along the corners of the room.

The old man whacked him on the head, with such less strength that Greyback would spit at the inefficiency of the strike, were his oral orifice not bound with more leather.

It was a wand box. He could feel the hollow nature of the box. The man sure had preferences.

The man whipped off the gag, as Greyback swallowed. The greying old man took the seat a feet away from the werewolf, eyeing him apprehensively.

"Gregorovitch." Said Greyback, as the man nodded. But before he could speak, Greyback interjected. "English."

"Why you come here? Who sent?"

"Nobody."

"Werewolves in this parts. Not without reason, no."

"I said nobody, but not without a reason, I am!" Greyback shouted, hoping it would enrage the man. Anger was when a person would spill beans, words, or anything. He hoped it wouldn't be spit.

"Voldemort sent you here." He stated it. Not a question. He knew.

"Yes. Where is the-"

"Wand? Please, you are in no place to threaten me. Come." The ropes fell, as Greyback stood.

* * *

The body was fine. But lacked one thing. I had no hair.

Nowhere. Not even on the skin. Lucius grovelled at my feet, as he pulls out my wand. Pettigrew had been hiding in the basement since Christmas. Lucius safeguarded the wand since then.

I was stark naked, and I pulled out a set of robes. Black, as preferred. There were green outlines. I touched the wand, as it did not respond. I shake it, but to no avail. The wand didn't work.

"Send word to Greyback. We shall go to Mykew Gregorovitch's house. Ollivander's would not be safe." Lucius peeks through the fireplace, as he turns to me, baffled. "Greyback isn't there. The old man is-"

"Come in, you fools. This old man still has blood watering his bones. And ears, mind it." A wizened face peeked out, a smug smile playing on the corners of his lips.

Lucius scowls, apparently enraged, but I just shrug. It was customary for the old to be abusive, and normal, for me to draw respect soon after. We enter the Floo, Lucius and I.

* * *

Grindelwald beckoned the vampire, as she understood his glamour. She now wore a different hood, this time a deep blue, woven in satin. She has her face hidden, invisible to the men and women below, as she crossed the railings on the first floor, reaching the ground level. How she managed to see from under the dark hood was now of no concern to Grindelwald.

She flipped the coin, as she raised her wand. To curse him. Somehow, she understood his plan too, and it was nice, seeing that she must have taken a slight glance at the piece of gold. Without him noticing.

A barrage of cutting spells came at him, relentlessly, as the glamour took the brunt of the undeflected ones. Voldemort's mangled face, and torn robes made a bad appearance, as Seraphina took up a defensive pose. The Dark lord blew the black fire at her, as she used the gate to escape as a bat. A pile of fine nightmarish dust glittered at the agonised population, as 'Voldemort ' disappeared in a hiss, not before laughing the typical 'villain' laugh, that Grindelwald was so proud of.

Grindelwald knew how a theatrical exit worked, that was for sure.

* * *

The passing through the green flames was revitalising. I scowled at the interior decoration. Too much of animal skin for my taste. I see a mirror nearby, and I have that tiny quantum of inquisitivity, to look at my own reflection, after all the long days of 'reflecting' upon myself. Ugh.

The wandmaker stares from the luxurious couch, and beckoned at the nearby couch. As Lucius stands by my side, the glass cabin, rather coffin, slanted on the far wall caught my eye.

A writhing Fenrir Greyback, within formalin. His head was above the level of the solution, but he was struggling against his bounds, tied wrists and cuffed legs.

Gregorovitch started talking.

* * *

 **Please tell me whenever you spot a continuity error. And based on the votes, Voldemort shall speak in first person.**


	33. Aftermath

Chapter 33: Aftermath

Gregorovitch frowned, as I prowled the room. My feet felt the soft fur of the vixen, the sturdy ones of the bisons, and the scaly skins of pythons. The walls were covered in stuffed animals, mostly non-magical.

"So your brilliant plan is to wait till there is enough strength to your cause?"

"Yes."

"That is absurd. You would at the minimum have to prove your adherence to your own cause if you are trying to get support." The man spoke in Dutch, though the Translating Treble tablet, an invention of Professor Zonko, translated his words. It was surely luck, that got them an English flavoured one in such a short time.

"We wouldn't want any risks." said Lucius. Greyback had been cut down and pulled off to the dungeons. Trespassers were surely being prosecuted here, it seemed. Lucius ran his hand over his sleek hair, which made me wonder if his fingers came out with liters of Sleakezy's solution.

"So. You figured breaking into Dumbledore's school as a spirit would be your great plan. And then escaped, while announcing your return loud. And also, without a single backup. You have temerity, I assure you that, but your foolishness exceeds that boldness." The old man said it with a coolness in his voice, without any pretence, and it did spawn a nagging thought in my head. It had truly been foolish.

"You want to know the location of that wand? That wand has never been good, not for a single damned soul. You want to go about alive, rule the world," He waved his hands about in the air, in an exaggerated motion. "Don't go looking for that wand. I would gladly give you the location of that old fool, the thief. But will you be pleased, happy with the knowledge of that man, who stole the world's most powerful wand, and then not showcase it? Or risk life for that bit of wood, created by Antioch Peverell to send this blasted world to the death which Beedle put up in his story?"

As I looked at his face, he shifted. "Translated edition. It gets boring, once you retire from wandmaking." He shrugged at the showcases of books. Bound in leather, as all the others.

It was impulsive, of course. But the face of the man and his conviction made my old curiosity poke on my laryngeal nerves, as I asked.

"Who was he?"

"The thief? Oh, you lot know him a little too well, don't you? Been your what, 'Role Model' since your schooldays, huh"

"Bad guy 101," I whispered, as I realized who it must have been.

"Grindelwald. Stuck past the gates to Nurmengard, he is. Repenting, if that is what he is supposed to do. Lord knows what he might be up to in his schemas and plans. I hated him, for so long, you see, the fire, flame burning, and as he got himself into Albus Dumbledore's bad books, he was going to the jail, and? What am I supposed to do, be happy? The embers of the undulating fire called revenge crushed me. He stole my wand! I viewed it as a crime to the death, I did. How much things have changed since then..."

I was actually surprised at the old man's outburst, and so would the stuffed carcass on the floor, seeing that he spat on it twice.

"Gellert Grindelwald has the Elder wand."

"Had."

Of course, defeat meant it changed hands. That would lead to one of the worst probabilities becoming true.

I wish the tale of the Three Brothers were just what it was said to be. A tale.

* * *

"He-who-must-not-be-named strikes hard at Library of Alexandria! 45 dead!"

"Targeting dwarves will not be tolerated"- spokesperson to Lord Eitri

"You-know-who will pay for damages to the sacred library; Goblins announce active action against Him"

"We haven't involved ourselves in your damned wars, human filth. He dares to trespass our great library and kills dwarven kindred. This will never be tolerated by Gringotts."

"Is the vampire who fought hard against You-Know-Who someone we know? Is it... Augusta Longbottom? Watch the exclusive new piece of news on the new and revolutionary approach to use complex muggle means of television. WizTV, with our first large scoop!"

* * *

"Voldemort has come back. This time, he has killed thirty five of the great miners. And ten humans, people just like you or me. This marks a great need for our resolve and the want, for righteousness, for truth, to be standing tall at the end, however the meantime might be. For you see, though Voldemort has been a sole terror on the population, he is just that. A sole terror. Not a single person has sided with him, as we have gained from the reporters. The people killed, they were not just anybody. They could be your kin. A friend. The one thing that defines us, our very core, which Voldemort will find the hardest to break, shall be our greatest defence, and it is nothing but our unity. We shall remain united. There is no force in the earth, not even his determined pursuits to spread the seeds of discord, to undermine our resolve. I ask you all, to allow two minutes of silence for the man, woman, and not at the least different from us, the dwarves."

Dumbledore stood, as the great Hall plunged into a dark silence. Mrs Norris meowing by the corner in Filch's lap being the only punctuation.

Draco scowled, as Snape neared Dumbledore. They were quietly dispersing, as the clanking of Moody's foot hit his ear.

"Mister Malfoy." Moody's hand wrapped around his shoulders. "Come with me."

Draco felt resisting was of not much use, as he followed. If there was any involvement of his father, he did not know it. He wouldn't be getting his father into a mess anyways.

"Sit." He saw the office. It was dimly lit, the old glass on the wall showing Moody's face clearly. "It was 77. We had formed a union of sorts, the ones who knew the reason behind the Dark Lord's seemingly unrelated attacks on muggle territory. One day, Charring cross is in chars, and then a series of deaths in houses. Silence then. He waited for the fear to set in."

"I don't see the point of-"

"For once, please listen. Mister Malfoy." Moody maintained his quiet tone. "Then more wizards died. Then entire muggle housing blocks go up in flames. Massive destruction." Moody's face contorted, as Malfoy readied himself for questioning. "If you do not tell me the location of Lord Voldemort this minute I will cruciate you till you scream-" Malfoy opened his eyes. He was hallucinating.

"So many were killed. Lord Voldemort is not a good person. He is less than a person, in actuality. Letting people who follow you walk to their demise is not a quality a hero would have, let alone a villain. Voldemort is a psychopath. It would do good for that to sink in."

He paused, taking a gulp out of his flask. "So please do the world a favour by telling, if you know, that is, the location of where the Dark Lord is. It is crucial to know, and please understand that that kind of information would top balances to the side of the people who are trying to prevent something bad from happening."

Moody held the door open, and lowered a hand, gesturing him the way out.

Malfoy walked out, without a word.

* * *

Harry ran through the corridor. He had gotten information from Filch that Dumbledore was calling him, and the old caretaker had limped through the multiple floors slowly, to deliver the note that asked him to come in a few minutes.

He had been happy, seeing as divination was cut, but also felt a bit good, that Ron had not been called. From all his speaking Ron had hidden something about the weekend with Dumbledore, but if he was not going to tell, Harry didn't want to press it. Now he just wanted Ron to get irritated at him being in a class with Dumbledore.

"Fizzing Whizzbee" he said, as the gargoyle let way.

Papers were strewn across the study, and in order in the floor. The news regarding the Egypt incident, Harry supposed. "Professor? You called for me?"

Dumbledore looked down from a shelf, five feet above his study. The sorting hat grumbled, as Dumbledore accidentally stepped on the rim of the hat.

"Ah, Harry. One would think the Supreme Mugwump would be busy, with all this... Events going on, hmm? Alas, see this."

Harry looked at the memo. Dumbledore was sacked from the confederation's highest position.

"Oh, I am sorry..."

"Don't be. It gave me the right track of thought."

Harry just looked, as Dumbledore urged him. "Go on. Ask me."

"What did you find?"

"It was not Voldemort who came into the library of Alexandria."

* * *

"My Lord, you need the wand. It might not be the wand that Grindelwald used before his defeat. There might be a chance... How would a powerful wizard like him be defeated if the elder wand was in his hands? He must have lost it already, and that would have been the chance Dumbledore used."

"Your logic is flawed. Never underestimate an enemy of yours. Especially if that enemy is -" I interrupted Gregorovitch.

"A white bearded fool. I don't want this argument. Grindelwald has to be questioned. I need to go to Nurmengard."

"How? No broom, nor carpet could get you there. Apparation, maybe will be-"

"I have... My means."

The newly released Greyback strolled along the distant entrance to the mansion, as he stopped with a yelp.

"My Lord..." He whimpered, holding up a newspaper, just as I left the mansion. Flying. To Nurmengard.

* * *

It was surprisingly close, for all I felt. Just a few kilometers away, from the Wand Maker's house. The grey shimmering air of anti portkey wards showered me, and then hit the anti apparation wards. The place was gloomy, with all the storm clouds covering the site from any sunlight. It looked like the old abandoned fortress that it was. My clothing waved in the air, giving me a good stylish appearance.

I landed on the top most crenel, as I stepped down onto the walk. The water channels were flowing through the venous channels that lined the walls. It was a pleasant day, while the constant dull flow of the water made it a bit gloomy.

I climbed down a series of steps, as I saw the open gates. To each cell. It was known. Grindelwald kept his prisoners in openness, allowing them a good range of motion, making the pain more agonizing.

This meant he would have to search for the old wizard all over the place.

I tapped the wand along the grills, as each door creaked, oil having abandoned them long ago. Rust had replaced the grills.

The water channels avoided all the rooms. They just flew along the way, on the corridor, though there were cut channels in the ground. That meant they fed the only prisoner there...

I followed the channels, as their flow took me to a lower segment of the great prison.

A room to the right had a closed room, but it didn't have a water supply either. I opened the door, which said " Korrekturraum " on black script. Unlike the others, this was a wooden door, though the wood had rotten to a disgusting extent.

The room was full of devices, cruel ones, typically used for torture. The sight of the dried blood on the ground, without effect from all the years lapsed in between... It sickened me. I was a killer. But torturing a person without a cruciatus... With so much blood... It was nauseating.

I closed the door again, as I spotted the one room receiving a water supply. I walked towards it, as I heard a cry of a bird. When I reached the room, it was empty. The water was flowing through the room, watering some non-existent prisoner.

"Grindelwald." I said. No response.

Dark blood, dried, traced along the walls. Grindelwald had been a cruel tyrant, and his method seems at bringing an order was just another means to gain power over all.

I realised a mistake. Nurmengard's defences would not have allowed a bird nearby. That meant...

"Hello Tom." Said the old repulsive voice, as I turned to face my old Transfiguration Professor.

* * *

Bill woke up. He was just admitted at the nearby wizarding malady cure centre, for observation, though some of the goblins has given him a dose of NSAIDs. Muggle medicine was not tolerated much here, seeing as the slightest abrasion on the leg would faster be sent to the healer than to be given a dose of the tetanus toxoid.

Grimword looked at him from the newspaper. He had been the assistant introduced to him for work, from the shift to Alexandria. He had won the best worker award thrice in a row, and that was quite a big thing, seeing as the fourth none was one of the largest trade centre.

"So, am I relieved from the hospitalisation?" He managed a weak smile.

"Itching to be in the tournament, aren't ya, kid?" Being the best worker, he was fluent in many tongues, and fortunately that list included English. Gobbledegook would have been fine, but Bill felt hardly in the mood to croak.

"Not the usual World Cup, is it? Once in a lifetime chance, and I get free tickets for shipping off the mummies." Bill grinned, and sat up on the bed. They served halwah here and that was tasty. Hospitals had never spawned such good memories in him since... well, never before.

"We'll send you to London after a day. The train. Or do ya want the three buses?"

"The train. A good day's sleep, I can afford."

"Drawing money off Gringotts, eh? Good thinking, lad. We be first priority, always. Atleast to ourselves, we be."

"Good thing, that the whole thing was recorded. Or else..." he shuddered, at the prospect of the dwarven kind at war, publicly, with the goblins, while Voldemort roamed free.

"Yes, kid. Very good. Or else a thousand dwarves will be losing their heads to my fist, eh?" He grinned, and raised a clenched fist, as Bill sniffed.

"Evening express?"

"Yep."

* * *

"Dumbledore."

The old man just went back to the corridor, as he beckoned me to follow. His damned insolence...

I followed, as he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

"Read this," said the old man, as he extended a hand. I picked it, knowing his age old determination to never to start a fight, as I unfurled the paper.

What in the name of ..

* * *

"There is nobody in this prison." Said Dumbledore. He kept his distance from me, while I sat by the cell's outer door.

"But what does he gain by impersonating me?"

"Anonymity. His escape is unknown to the world."

"And you knew about it for..."

"I saw him escape." Saying this, he whispered. "Save yourself." As the old man's body withered, until he was no more.

I probably was hallucinating, in the cell, but the paper in my hand held testimony otherwise. Dumbledore must have used a good spell of some sort to do this, but the news on the paper had been...

There were no photos. Not that it mattered. I knew what form the villain must have chosen, the old school Tom Riddle form. Tasteless ectoplasm.

I set off from the prison, as the cursive on the piece of paper got my eye. "Try a full alchemical examination on the water supply. It might interest you. -AD"

I smirked, as I conjured a vial. This mere price of magic meant that either I was Dumbledore(which I was not) or that the wards had gone off since Grindelwald's escape. I collected the fluid up to three quarters, and then departed, to Malfoy manor. I wasn't being tracked, the magical residue of a tracker must have destroyed the 'Dumbledore' which gave me the news. I exited without that one fear, though newer thoughts began to haunt me.

* * *

"The first task of the Triwizard Tournament shall start at tomorrow morning, sharp at 8 a.m. Assemble at the Quidditch grounds early if you want good seats. Vote Fred and George for President cuz Hermione has a mouse- Stop it, you idiots." They laughed, as Ron stood, fuming, as the announcement came back to its original wording.

Katie plucked it off, while Fred and George laughed off their heads. Harry had his hands holding his chin, going over the extra spells that he had tried to master by the last few weeks. The news that Grindelwald was impersonating Voldemort was not so earth-shattering, as what Dumbledore assured him was that the base difference in each of their principles, topped by the want of both to be on the top of the food chain, would certainly not help with a possible mutual friendship. He didn't break the news, not even to Ron or Hermione. Dumbledore had detailed how Voldemort would try to resurrect himself, and that the event would possibly be forced to culminate with Voldemort aiming at the other Dark-Lord, comfortably forgetting Harry in the process.

How Dumbledore planned to achieve this, Harry had had no idea, but if merely manipulating a bit of news could get the whole population against Hagrid, the massive load of news that dropped on Alexandria would be enough to convince Voldemort about Grindelwald antagonising him.

Harry left the common room, Ron following, as he went down for an early dinner. He needed more time by the night, and he wasn't really sure he could sleep in all the anticipations and tension of the next day's event.

"I'll come to the hall, you just go!" Said Ron, as he shifted along the corridor. "Where are you going?"

"Hermione asked for her DADA textbook. She left it in the classroom, she said."

"Okay, then." Harry just dragged himself, as he pondered over the animals listed in Newt Scamander's text. One of those, or more, would be trying to kill him, brutally, the next day.

Ginny came to the hall just as he did. The doors were almost shut, and as Harry reached for the door to push it inwards, Ginny dropped all her books on his feet.

"Aw. What the hell, Ginny!" He pulled his toes from under the Monstrous book of Monsters (Ron's copy from the last year), and the whole stack fell forwards. Harry just stepped over the books, going into the hall, as Ginny made a face to his fast retreating back.

* * *

Grindelwald grinned. He had rendezvoused with the vampire as soon as he had left Alexandria for good. He had not been able to spot the book he had required, but the result was far more satisfactory than he had originally intended. Dumbledore will either leak the news that he had escaped, and risk the anger of many, due to his lateness. Or Voldemort would be focussed as the main threat and he would be left alone. His act was met with outrage throughout the magical world, what with those hypocritic goblins deepening the game field a bit more with their comments on dwarf safety. The total deaths of dwarves due to goblins would surely exceed the number of men killed in all of the muggle wars combined.

He lounged further into the comfortable sofa. The beds in France were too much... "Indentable" and he couldn't stand being five inches beneath the bed surface. So he had claimed the sofa, and also conjured a similar one to extend his legs on.

The newspapers were not reporting his actions in France, anyway. Seraphina was selecting good restaurants for the evening. I would do well with something simple though. The Doors of Stone were not discovered as his way of entry. People thought 'Voldemort' had entered through the main gates. He even half expected the sufferers in the library, the ones lying face down, to have remembered something of the man who had been dragged for having a wand on him. Not unexpectedly, the fools forgot anything that was irrelevant though it was, to the situation.

* * *

The wind howled, as I stomped down the walk. This was retribution. Even though Dumbledore was purposefully aiming on my retaliation to Grindelwald, as a means of open war, and public enemity, I had a different idea.

I muttered the Curse of Ages. This had been used countless times, but ever since the Titans had been stripped of their monarchy, and Kronos dragged down to the depths of Tartarus, this had lost the spot off the favourites list of a notable few. The complexity was what intrigued me. The Lord of time could build, and could destroy. He could build a fortress by swivelling onto the future, where it had already been built by his actions of swivelling time. An endless circuit of laziness. But also, it had the power to bring down even the strongest fortress of times when even history was a newborn.

The fungi glowed, violet, then turned to a sick blue, as they withered, their hexes vaporising. The place lost the protection it had, and each brick, stone, and drop of dried blood evaporated, as they returned to the soil, fertilising the ground for a thousand years to come. The large fortress, the prison, it came down to rubble, then to ashes, as I wipe the sweat off my now bald head. The next morning will witness another terror. Nurmengard will have disappeared, and the world will know that Grindelwald had escaped, 'when' being the question the wizarding populace will surely ignore.

Rain stooped down dramatically, as I walked for a few more steps and dramatically apparated. This author wants you to imagine me being stylish and spectacular. My Apparation was a bit clumsy though, and my robes tangled at my foot as I landed back in the yard outside Gregorovitch's home. This was why I'd not prefer Apparation.

* * *

Wow! 100000 words by chapter 33! Thanks for reading. Reviews please! And whatever I write, is before Fb2: Crimes of Grindelwald, so I wouldn't know what happens with him. My version of his past diverges from the first movie, and I ask you to accept changes, however minute, after a trailer comes out, after the movie comes out, and also after the entire series ends.

Yours, Vin


End file.
